


chemical warfare

by situational_irony_13



Series: K-Cup Coffee Verse [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward (but hilarious) situations, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Kyoutani being too sweet, M/M, Maybe a little sexual tension cos its me, Oikawa being a good senpai, Probably a bit OOC to be honest, Self-indulgent fluff, That pesky campus twitter, When i say self-indulgent I mean self-indulgent, Yahaba being relatable, iwaizumi knowing a bit too much, might up rating and add characters as it goes on, not that much swearing surprisingly enough, sassiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/situational_irony_13/pseuds/situational_irony_13
Summary: This is all Akaashi's fault, Yahaba thought. That stupid fundraiser.Because being forced to teach a class together with the bane of your existence sucks.Being forced to teach a class with the bane of your existence-turned-crush? Worse. So much worse.Miles worse. (Yahaba yearns for death).Featuring: a cast of well-meaning (but ultimately unhelpful) professors (and Akaashi).
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Series: K-Cup Coffee Verse [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703149
Comments: 57
Kudos: 240





	1. monday, or the beginning of the end

**Author's Note:**

> Quick addition: this’ll probably make a lot more sense if you read the first couple fics in this universe (or at least the second one). You could probably try reading this on it’s own but at your own risk.
> 
> So, I was going to write a matsuhana fic in this universe (And i ABSOLUTELY will) but for some reason I found myself writing this chapter and I'm pretty sure both Yahaba and Kyoutani might be a little OOC but it's really just super self-indulgent cos I found myself loving them at some point and idk how it started. 
> 
> That being said, I'm really excited to put some of that academia aesthetic into here cos that's what I strive for. And I hope y'all enjoy me giving a perfectly good character anxiety. Cos I'm awful.

“Somehow, one fundraiser is going to wreck our lives irreparably,” Iwaizumi pronounced grumpily.

“Oh, just drink your coffee Iwa-chan; before you get one cup into your system you’re a mean old grump.”

“Well, you married the mean old grump so who’s the bigger fool?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes good-naturedly, always a tad too cheerful in the mornings. He was running his hands through Akaashi’s hair as the man in question reclined in his lap, eyes closed. Was he asleep? No one really knew. No one wanted to risk waking him up, since Akaashi got less sleep than the rest of them put together. 

Except maybe Kenma. Kenma always seemed to be up late. 

“What has you concerned, Iwaizumi?” Suga asked softly. It was an interesting morning, filled with far more stillness than usual. There were only five professors in the lounge this morning: Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Suga, Daichi, and Akaashi.

“Kyoutani and Yahaba.”

Daichi snorted, before raising a finger to his lips, seemingly shushing himself.

“Don’t they always have you a little concerned, Papa-bear?”

Iwaizumi’s clear look of disgust made it difficult for the remaining three teachers to muffle their snickers. “Pot calling the kettle black, Sawamura,” Iwaizumi rebutted.

“Them teaching classes together could go strangely well, or incredibly wrong,” Iwaizumi continued.

“Oh, don’t go worrying on me now, Hajime,” Oikawa murmured softly, not even attempting to disguise the sheer _contentment_ in his eyes. Seeing Oikawa like this never failed to put a smile on Iwaizumi’s face, which didn’t waver even at the muffled “whipped!” Daichi coughed out into his elbow. “We still have at least a half hour before any of our concerns can touch us.”

Suga inclined his head toward Oikawa in agreement, burrowing further into Daichi’s chest. Akaashi let out a sleepy mumble, and all four professors couldn’t help their indulgent smiles. 

Yes, mornings like this were a collective favorite. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yahaba could clearly state that he’d never hated a morning quite like this one (including one of the times during his undergrad when he’d tumbled down the stairs after three all-nighters in a row).

This morning was threatening to _ruin_ him. Why? Because it was absolutely freaking _perfect_. 

He’d woken up feeling refreshed rather than exhausted, his toast was perfect, and though he generally couldn’t (read: never) flip his omelet properly it happened today. 

His orange juice had absolutely no pulp in it, and his food had that amazing texture combination that comes with a perfect omelet and perfect toast. So, everything inside his house was perfect, including the air-conditioning.

It just got worse.

The sky was a brilliant blue, with beautiful puffy white clouds. It was comfortably warm, with a cool breeze providing wonderful respite at the exact moment when it became slightly too warm. Yahaba glared angrily at the trees dancing in the wind, but the only response he received was the pleasant rustling of the leaves.

If the campus environment was picturesque, nothing prepared him for the sight that would greet him when he entered the lounge to put away his lunch. Sunlight bathed the room in brightness, while some of the professors laughed quietly in that intimate manner that suggested: “We are so happy, they should put us in _after_ section of a migraine relief commercial.” Even Iwaizumi-san looked less angry than normal, and Akaashi was _sleeping peacefully?_

Yahaba was ready to _scream_. 

To clarify, it wasn’t like Yahaba was a masochist. He didn’t hate good days nor did he enjoy bad days. He just figured that people get a limited supply of perfect days in their lifetime, and wasting one on a day like today was frustrating, to say the least.

“Ah, Yahaba-kun!” Oikawa-san exclaimed jovially, yet somehow not quite raising his voice. He probably would have bounded over and wrapped Yahaba in a tight hug had Akaashi not been inadvertently immobilizing him. 

“Are you ready for the week?” Daichi-san asked. 

“Hahaha, I totally am! Why would you even ask?” Yahaba responded quickly, his grip on his lunch bag tightening reflexively. Daichi’s smile froze as he nodded uncomfortably, completely unsatisfied with the response but clearly unsure of how he should proceed.

“I just came in here to stash my lunch, I have a class in a couple minutes,” Yahaba said, filling the uncomfortable silence with soft (ish) words. 

By the time Yahaba turned around from the fridge, he caught the last couple seconds of what seemed to be a violent nonverbal conversation between the 4 conscious professors. There was lots of pointing and waving and at one point Suga-san had his middle finger pointed directly at Oikawa-san so that could not be good. 

Yahaba cleared his throat softly, bringing the frantic communications to an end. Time to face the music. He bowed shortly, before speaking: “I promise all of you that this week will go smoothly. No worries need to be maintained, Iwaizumi-san. Kyoutani-san and I are both capable professors who will go through this exercise with just enough enjoyment for the students that satisfies the necessity.”

Iwaizumi-san, Suga-san, and Daichi-san relaxed slightly, but of course Yahaba could not win them all. Oikawa-san’s eyes turned cool and calculating, as he seemed to appraise Yahaba. Yahaba knew Oikawa-san well enough that he could practically see his walls going up as the man in question went into his strategy mode. 

It was terrifying enough when it had happened in class before a test or project, not to mention the couple times Yahaba had shared a volleyball court with him. Now, it set his nerves blatantly on edge. 

Then Oikawa-san was delicately lifting Akaashi’s head before standing, resettling Akaashi on the couch. “Can I walk you to your class, Yahaba-kun?” Oikawa-san asked, an unsettlingly charming smile plastered on his face. Yahaba flicked his eyes over to Iwaizumi-san, who shrugged, before producing a hesitant nod.

“Perfect!” Oikawa squealed, before threading an arm through Yahaba’s. Yahaba barely had time to make ‘save me’ eyes at Suga-san before he was yanked through the open door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what exactly is making you nervous about teaching for a week with Kyoken-chan?”

Yahaba let the question sink in for a couple seconds, before scraping a couple of reasons off the top of his head to respond with. Oikawa-san would absolutely know if he was lying, but he probably wouldn’t be able to figure out if Yahaba wasn’t telling the whole truth.

In theory.

“Well, first of all, I know nothing about military history and he knows nothing about quantum mechanics or thermodynamics.”

“Yes, but that’ll be the fun part! You’ll get to learn something new, students will get to see their favorite professors suffering endlessly with the same material! It will be such a cute experience! Plus, you’re in each other’s 101s. You could sleep through those classes!” Oikawa-san singsonged. 

“I suppose,” Yahaba intoned, noncommittal as could be. He hoped he’d satisfied Oikawa-san’s curiosity, but hope had never once come through for him.

“There has to be something else worrying you other than the difference between colonel, lieutenant, and lieutenant colonel.”

“How can you even name the positions? You teach astrophysics!”

“Yes, but I’m married to a history geek.”

Yahaba just went with a reason that was closer to the truth, unable to stall or run out the clock since Oikawa-san seemed to be taking him on a scenic route to his lecture hall. The fact that he’d only had a few minutes was a blatant lie that every professor in the room had probably seen through immediately.

“We hate each other. Like, so much. We’re usually barely able to be in the same room without arguing. What if we can’t spend a week together without somehow killing everyone within a fifty-foot radius, including ourselves?”

“Oh, Yahaba-kun. Even when you used to TA for me all those years ago-”

“-It was literally just a couple years ago-”

“-you always used to maintain a certain composure in the position of a teacher.”

Wait, was this an actual Helpful Oikawa-san Moment™? Yahaba had experienced one two weeks ago during the construction of a lesson plan, so he figured he wouldn’t get another one for at least another week. 

“While you may never really hit the apex of potential in teaching that is my professorial capabilities, I assure you that your ability to teach wouldn’t be hindered by the presence of Kyoken-chan.”

It actually _was_ a Helpful Oikawa-san Moment™, but with the healthy dose of self-complimenting that Oikawa-san managed to add into most ordinary conversations.

“You’ll be able to separate your personal feelings for Kyoken-chan and your ability to teach.”

Yahaba let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“ _Thanks, Oikawa-san,_ ” he said in a slightly stunned tone of voice. 

“You don’t have to say it like _that_.”

Yahaba let out a soft laugh, before realizing they’d been loitering outside his lecture hall for a couple minutes now. He reciprocated a wave and a smile to Oikawa before steeling himself and walking inside his classroom.

Little did he know that both Oikawa’s wave and smile were directed at Kyoutani, who was (for some reason or another) sitting in a darkened corner of the hall with a folder open on his lap.

Yahaba didn’t know this because Yahaba didn’t actually notice Kyoutani when he walked into his own classroom. He was so focused on finding Kyoutani in the sea of students entering the room that he didn’t consider the idea that Kyoutani was already inside.

Tunnel-vision was screwing with him on his worst perfect day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, as you all may be aware, this week is going to be slightly different than normal. Do not misunderstand me; the material you learn this week will absolutely be tested, but since you all so generously donated to support campus extracurriculars, I’ve rearranged the schedule so that testing can be pushed to accommodate whatever might happen over the course of this week.”

Yahaba paused, hyperaware of the slight trembling in his hands. 

“There will be no cohesive schedule for the week, as planning is in progress, but I guarantee you will want to show up for class.”

His students seemed happy, pretty excited. Many were letting out sighs of relief at getting a slow week for the first time this semester. Yahaba took a deep breath, ready to face the elephant in the room (or more like the elephant who wasn’t in the room).

“Ironically enough, the week’s plans should’ve started today with Kyoutani-san sitting in on our lesson on the First Law of Thermodynamics, but seeing as he isn’t present-”

“-of course I am,” a gravelly voice interjected from the corner.

Yahaba shrieked, before accidentally backhanding his metal water bottle off of his desk. The metal made thunderous noise against the tile floor, before rolling to a stop. 

Yahaba’s hands were clapped over his mouth. His students (several of whom had also screamed) stared at him. He stared back at them. Kyoutani walked forward out of the corner where people could see him. 

It was very silent.

“Kyoutani-san? May I have a word?” Yahaba asked very softly. Kyoutani nodded, following Yahaba out the door. The two stood in the hallway in awkward silence for a couple seconds before Yahaba erupted.

“ _Why were you just sitting in a dark corner!_ ”

“Well, why were the lights off?”

“ _We were going to go over a PowerPoint!_ ”

“I really thought you would have seen me!”

“ _Well, I didn’t!”_

Yahaba took a deep shuddering breath, trying to avoid Kyoutani’s glare. 

“Are we going to be able to do this?” Yahaba asked.

“Probably not,” Kyoutani grumbled.

“Splendid. Try to keep up with me, would you?” Yahaba pulled the door open, trying to ignore the responding anger rolling off of Kyoutani in waves. 

“While I know none of you could have left because I was right outside the door, I thank all of you for not crawling through the ventilation shaft to escape. Time to make you all wish you had.”

Yahaba paused for the soft laughs spreading through the room. Then he locked eyes with Kyoutani, refusing to show how off-balance he was. This was his class, his course. 

“Are you ready for the First Law of Thermodynamics?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To Kyoutani’s credit, he didn’t express any confusion or apprehension at being bombarded with science concepts after years of history lessons. Yahaba tiredly added an extra scream to his daily quota, not bothering to dignify Kyoutani’s lack of reaction with one of his own.

An hour passed with surprising swiftness, Kyoutani even asking a relevant question at one point (when Kyoutani’s hand raised Yahaba added a scream to his mental tally) and his students were being surprisingly manageable today. 

Yahaba clicked off the projector, finally flipping the light switch as most of his students squinted in the sudden brightness. He pulled out a large stack of papers, their project reports from last week.

“Haru-kun, do you mind helping me pass these back?” Yahaba asked, a note of exhaustion seeping into his voice. He probably should have had a cup of coffee this morning; regardless of how well he might have slept, talking for an hour tires anyone out.

Before his student could respond, Yahaba felt the stack of papers being yanked out of his hand by Kyoutani, who gruffly said, “I’ll help.” Yahaba watched in astonishment as Kyoutani quietly asked students for their names, shuffling through the stack to find their reports. Once in a while, Kyoutani offered a quiet compliment, or encouragement.

Yahaba began to notice Kyoutani pointing something out on a lot of the reports, his mouth seeming to twitch out of its permanent scowl. 

“What?” he asked, exasperation evident after the behavior continued.

Kyoutani straightened, looking off to the side before muttering, “Your doodles are nice.”

Yahaba bit down on his lip, feeling his cheeks flush (in anger? rage? perhaps embarrassment?) taking a deep breath to prevent himself from doing _something._ His muscles screamed at him to do something, but he didn’t know whether it was to smile or tackle the man looking staunchly away from him. 

His doodles _were_ nice, and made grading less abhorrent overall. He added smiley-faces, cartoon suns, storm clouds with lightning, clowns, anything he could use to put a slight smile on his students’ faces. He’d love to take all credit for it, but when he’d had Oikawa-san as a supervisor he’d talk constantly about how to make students love their major, it was the responsibility of a professor to try to add to their happiness, in small (and big) ways. His preferred small way of helping out his students was doodling while grading. His detested large way of helping his students smile was the situation he was trapped in now. 

Though he couldn’t deny that Kyoutani’s barely-here presence in his room was already a novelty for his students. His softly-uttered compliments seemed to leave students beaming, with some of his female students blushing violently. 

Yahaba thanked every god that his water bottle was made of metal. His grip had tightened to the point of absolutely crushing a plastic bottle. He resignedly added another scream to his daily quota. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, how many?”

“ _Fourteen,”_ Yahaba responded miserably, stabbing at his lunch. Akaashi barely reacted, choosing to nod and turn the page in his book. 

“That’s a lot less than I thought you’d be at,” Akaashi finally commented after a stretch of silence. “You do hate each other.”

“Yeah, well. We’re being mature or something.”

Akaashi scoffed, and Yahaba resumed picking at his lunch, his appetite nonexistent. 

“So, are you gonna get in a couple of your screams during your lunch break? I have a pillow if you’d like to take advantage of it.”

“If by pillow you’re referring to Oikawa-san, I’ll pass.” 

Akaashi cracked a grin, his eyes straying from the page to look Yahaba in the eye.

“I was, actually. Why would I need a pillow? I’m fueled by insomnia and insecurities.”

Yahaba huffed out a laugh, Akaashi’s fatalistic humor never failing to lift his spirits. 

“You know, if Bokuto-san heard you, he’d stage another intervention where we all have to go around the circle and tell you what we like about you.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes, and Yahaba pretended not to notice the flushed cheeks and indulgent smile. God, at least he wouldn’t ever completely miss a potential relationship staring him in the face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yahaba wasn’t necessarily looking forward to Kyoutani’s afternoon military history class. First of all, history classes were _boring._ If he had thought they were interesting, Iwaizumi-san would be his mentor rather than Oikawa-san (which would probably be incredibly helpful, but it’s too late for that). 

As if Yahaba’s train of thought had conjured him, Iwaizumi-san walked into the lecture hall and smiled, walking over to where Yahaba was sitting. 

“How was your morning class? Oikawa was fussing about it.”

“It went as well as it could have, I believe,” Yahaba responded diplomatically.

“Yeah, yeah, cut the shit. You didn’t notice Kyoutani in the room, and once he said something you screamed for a solid minute. Then you guys had some sort of argument outside of the classroom.”

“How the _fridge-_ ”

Iwaizumi just gestured to his phone. “Campus twitter was exploding.”

“So let me get this straight: after literally _years_ of not checking the campus twitter, which led to you and your husband being unaware that the entire student population wanted you to date, leading to the most massive clusterfuck of a situation I’ve ever _seen_ , you’ve chosen to finally pay attention to the campus twitter today, just to spite me.”

Yahaba had gotten increasingly loud during his tirade, and by the time he stopped yelling, most of the students in the class were staring at him.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Would you like to take a seat, Yahaba?” Iwaizumi responded, his infinite patience and composure comforting as Yahaba felt the flames of embarrassment licking at him. Luckily, Kyoutani wasn’t here yet (unless he was, _again_ ).

“So, why are you here Iwaizumi-san?” Yahaba asked, changing the subject.

“Well, I supervise Kyoutani’s classes every once in a while. _Technically_ , I was supposed to supervise his class on Friday but Oikawa convinced me to come in today and prevent anything from, well, happening.”

Yahaba felt a faint smile tug at his lips as Iwaizumi-san kept talking. Everyone always figured Oikawa-san was the clingy one in their relationship with how _tsundere_ Iwaizumi-san was when they were together. But Iwaizumi-san didn’t seem to be able to go two sentences without somehow incorporating ‘Oikawa’ or ‘Shittykawa’. It was nauseating.

No, it was cute. And Yahaba, he really wanted that with someone someday.

The door swung open loudly, cutting off Yahaba’s train of thought. 

“Sorry I’m late, everyone,” Kyoutani announced gruffly. He looked up from the stack of papers in his arms and locked eyes with Yahaba imperiously. “Enough of a disclaimer for you?”

The room erupted in giggles, clearly informed on the situation through the damn campus twitter. Yahaba watched Iwaizumi-san bite his lip to swallow his amusement, and now Yahaba was fuming. However, he couldn’t take this lying down.

“A wonderful disclaimer to be sure. Please be sure to incorporate it into your daily lifestyle, Kyou-kun,” Yahaba responded, heaping on saccharine sweetness and completing it with a disgusting nickname. Kyoutani’s eyes narrowed, and Yahaba could practically feel the growl building up in his throat.

“Maybe just start the lecture, Kyoutani,” Iwaizumi interjected, eyeing the seated students (many of whom had their phones out) with concern. 

Yahaba watched Kyoutani take a deep breath, and waited for him to load slides, turn down the lights, write something on the board, _anything._

“1618,” Kyoutani began, licking his lips. “Europe.”

Yahaba turned to look at Iwaizumi sharply, a little confused. Iwaizumi had a smirk playing at his lips, clearly aware of something Yahaba didn’t know. 

“Aidless lectures. Popular with the students, but obviously difficult.” Iwaizumi-san trailed off for a second, before his eyes went wide with understanding. 

“ _He’s showing off, huh?_ ” Iwaizumi-san murmured to himself. Yahaba went red, biting his lip. If he was sure of one thing, it was that it would be a snowy day in hell before Kyoutani would show off for him.

Then Yahaba returned his attention to Kyoutani, and watched him transform. 

Kyoutani’s shoulders dropped, his spine straightening as he continued to speak. Yahaba felt awkward blinking, felt like he was losing something precious. Kyoutani’s voice evened out, gruff tone vanishing as he talked about the innovations in warfare during the Thirty Years’ War. 

About ten minutes in, Kyoutani began slowly walking around the room as he spoke, using calm hand gestures and clearly gaining confidence in himself. He cracked a small joke and Yahaba found himself smiling before his consciousness caught up to him. 

The time passed by in a blur, Yahaba barely moving the whole time, his eyes glued to Kyoutani. When Kyoutani formally introduced him to the class, Yahaba just waved awkwardly unsure of mixing with these students when he was so thoroughly _thrown_ by Kyoutani. 

“You’re looking at him like he’s a whole new person, Yahaba,” Iwaizumi-san whispered near the end of class. 

Yahaba just shrugged helplessly, his distress painted clearly over his face.

“Breathe, Yahaba-kun. He’s gonna come down from his pedestal in a couple minutes and insult you to your face. Then all will be right in your world again.”

“He’s just...why didn’t we ever know he was-” Yahaba cut himself off, gesturing violently at the man in front of him. 

Iwaizumi-san stared at him for an uncomfortable period of time before his eyes glowed in unfortunate understanding.

“Wait, do you-”

“-Absolutely not!” Yahaba practically shouted, face unbearably red.

“All it took was for you to listen to him lecture _once-_ ”

“ _Shut up, Iwaizumi-san!”_ Yahaba yelled in distress.

Kyoutani turned to look sharply at Yahaba, his outburst clearly unanticipated. Yahaba waited for whatever rude hand gesture or statement Kyoutani was going to direct at him in front of _all of his students-_

“Oi, Yahaba. Are you okay?”

Yahaba sat there, stunned into silence. _He literally just asked if you were okay,_ Yahaba reasoned nonverbally, _It wasn’t emotional sensitivity. It was just him not being a dick, you get that right?_

“I-I have to go.”

Kyoutani cocked his head to the side, adorably confused. _Adorably confused?! Yahaba, you’re clearly having a stroke._

“I’m having a stroke.”

Kyoutani’s eyes widened as Iwaizumi-san barked out a laugh (entirely unhelpful). Most of the students were videotaping this entire exchange.

“Are we still on for later?” Kyoutani asked, his confusion evident in his voice.

Yahaba emitted a high-pitched noise, throwing his hands up to cover his mouth. He nodded twice, before fleeing out the door. The moment the door was shut behind him, Yahaba sank to his knees.

“Perfect day? My fucking ass,” he groaned aloud.

“ _We can still hear you!_ ” Iwaizumi-san’s voice rang out from the room.

Yahaba banged his head against the wall, before escaping to his office to hide under a pile of paperwork.

This week was going to be _awful_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, let me get this straight. You like him now?”

Yahaba groaned, his hand itching to throw something at Akaashi, who seemed way too amused by this turn of events. 

“ _No._ Absolutely not.”

“You’re attracted to him though?” Kenma voices, buried under a blanket. 

The three of them were huddled in Yahaba’s office, Yahaba still hiding under his desk after the series of events that had transpired. He’d called Akaashi and Kenma to come sit with him and drown his sorrows in milkshakes (oh, he’d ordered milkshakes). The story of the whole day had flowed out after a certain point, and Yahaba was now regretting having told them anything (and these were the _nice_ ones out of his friends).

“I’m not attracted to him. I think.”

“Okay, how good of a professor could he possibly be for you to hate him in the morning and be head over heels for him now?”

“It wasn’t his professorial capacity, exactly,” Yahaba tried to explain.

“Ah- _ha_! So you _are_ head over heels for him!” Akaashi pounced, Kenma snorting softly.

“Sometimes I wonder if you ever graduated the second grade,” Yahaba complained halfheartedly. 

Kenma put aside his DS, shifting in the blankets to lean forward towards Yahaba. 

“Explain.”

Yahaba took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts into neat rows and columns.

“It’s not anything like you might be thinking. It’s just that, everything I thought I knew for sure about him went out the _window._ It was like, seeing your 4th grade teacher in the grocery store-but in a good way? Like, he was just so _different_ , and so he fell out of the box I’ve kept him in in my head and-and know I keep trying to force him back in, but it won’t-”

Yahaba cut himself off, his rambling and worries cresting as he tried his damnedest to control his breathing. 

“Yahaba. That’s not the worst thing. Breathe. You’ll be working with him closely throughout the week right?” Akaashi asked. Yahaba nodded.

“You’ll learn more about him. Then, you can label the box correctly, and he’ll fit right back in, safe and sound.”

Yahaba nodded, using his straw to draw circles in his chocolate milkshake.

“Oi, Yahaba!” Kyoutani’s gruff voice called from the doorway. Yahaba jumped at the sound, hitting his head on the top of the desk. He crawled out without grace, rubbing at the top of his head grumpily.

“What do you want, Kyou-kun,” he asked angrily, using the hated nickname. Kyoutani growled before snapping in response: “Don’t call me that.” Yahaba stuck his tongue out, apparently reverting to his grade school self. 

Kyoutani’s eyes narrowed. “Next time you decide to throw a fit in my classroom, give me some heads up so I don’t have to subject my students to it, Yahaba.”

“Oh, fuck a chainsaw.”

“Well, look at that,” Akaashi interjected. “You’re all back to normal. So maybe now, both of you can go work on curriculums. Anywhere except here, because I value peace and quiet.”

Yahaba grabbed his milkshake off the ground before reaching for his satchel. 

“Let’s go to the library, Kyou-kun, and leave Akaashi and Kenma here for their beloved ‘ _peace and quiet_ ’.”

Yahaba could feel Kyoutani’s glare burning through his back but he refused to turn around, striding with purpose out of the office area. Just as the two were leaving, Yahaba heard a faint “ _Hey, hey, hey!”_ from the direction of his office.

“So much for Akaashi’s peace and quiet,” Kyoutani remarked quietly.

“Oh, it’s Bokuto-san. I doubt Akaashi will mind,” Yahaba responded absently. 

Kyoutani cocked his head to the side, clearly confused. 

“Oh, you’re so much more dense than I gave you credit for, Kyou-kun!” Yahaba announced, delighted. Kyoutani grumbled the rest of the way to the library. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yahaba yawned for the third time in as many minutes, struggling to keep his eyes open. The curriculum on the screen in front of him phased in and out of blurriness.

“How can four days worth of curriculum be so much _work_?”

Kyoutani snorted softly as Yahaba reached over to turn up the jazz playing in the background. The two had started the evening arguing vociferously over each song choice, until the librarian had walked over and shushed them so violently Yahaba could still kind of hear it. Then, they argued more quietly over the music, until both of them tired to the point where they traded off choices.

Kyoutani was apparently into jazz. 

The two of them sat at a large oak table in a secluded corner of the library. The fireplace next to them crackled, giving off comfortable warmth to combat the chill emanating from the windows. Yahaba shivered, wondering where the warmth from that morning had gone. Kyoutani wordlessly shoved a thick blazer towards him. Yahaba rationalized that he was both too tired and too cold to argue before wrapping it around himself gratefully. 

“So, tomorrow.”

Kyoutani looked up at Yahaba, before capping his fountain pen and angling fully towards him. 

“Tomorrow.”

“We need to teach our material together,” Yahaba elaborated.

“It’ll probably be a massive trainwreck,” Kyoutani offered.

Yahaba rolled his eyes, though a smirk was playing at his lips. “You have all the reading?”

“Yep. You have yours?”

“Absolutely. A thrilling tale of WWI,” Yahaba responded sarcastically.

“Hey! WWI is _absolutely_ interesting, and if anyone should be complaining it’s me!”

Yahaba raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Oh, _really?_ ”

Kyoutani’s expression morphed into one of serious distaste.

“You have me learning _phase charts_.”

Yahaba couldn’t help it; he started giggling softly, and he watched Kyoutani’s frown disappear until he was wearing a small indulgent smile. Yahaba blushed and looked away, and then so did Kyoutani. The two sat in slightly awkward silence before Yahaba cleared his throat:

“Tomorrow, then. And we can meet up after classes to figure out Wednesday?”

Kyoutani nodded before walking forward into Yahaba’s space. His hands rose, and delicately pulled the jacket around Yahaba off. Kyoutani leaned up, barely an inch between the two of them, and said lowly: “Try not to have a stroke in my classroom again.”

Before Yahaba could let out a ragged breath, Kyoutani had pulled on his own jacket and grabbed his leatherbound bag, striding away with sure steps.

“You asshole!” Yahaba called after him, trying to tamp down on his grin.

Kyoutani turned around for a quick second. “See you tomorrow, Yahaba.”

Yahaba turned around as the library doors shut behind Kyoutani, burying his face in his hands. Tomorrow indeed. 


	2. tuesday, or redundancy unrevised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things continue to get (better) WORSE. Yahaba gets increasingly confused (and happy). Oikawa tries to help (and fails). 
> 
> The demonic duo (troublesome two?) get involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I finished this chapter so long ago, and then just didn't post it cos I'm the worst sort of person. More importantly, I haven't even started chapter 3, nor do I have any idea what I'm doing. Sorry.

“I’m telling you, something’s seriously up with Yahaba!” Iwaizumi argued, a bit too awake for his present company.

“Look, Iwa-chan, I love that you’re just so _energetic_ right now but I seriously need another solid fifteen minutes before I can consider _anything_.”

Suga’s head popped up off the couch, raising a thumbs up to suggest that he strongly agreed with Oikawa’s statement. Daichi was slumped over a pile of paper at a nearby desk, blue ink smeared over the bridge of his nose. 

“Then I’ll talk and you all can listen. Yahaba has a crush on Kyoutani.”

The room was silent and motionless for a couple seconds, then Oikawa snorted.

“Yeah, and you top.”

Iwaizumi blushed furiously at the allusion to that Incident™ before scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“You should have seen the way he looked at him yesterday! Like, like…” Iwaizumi trailed off. Oikawa turned over on the couch to look toward Iwaizumi, interest apparently piqued.

“The way you looked at me when I showed you we were going to the planetarium for our first date.”

Oikawa blushed, biting his lip in fondness. This was overshadowed by Suga rolling over on his couch, groaning loudly before complaining, “ _We get it,_ you guys are _super fucking cute_! If you could just _not_ with the gross displays of domestic affection that would be really _great._ ”

“Suga-chan, you and perfect-husband-chan over there are the last people to be lecturing us about _gross displays of domestic affection._ Plus, Iwa-chan never displays his love for me.”

“Yeah, Tooru. It’s almost like you’re an annoying asshole most of the time.”

Oikawa pouted as Suga dissolved into laughter. Before long, Oikawa joined in, then Iwaizumi, and then they were just three people laughing for _far_ too long. Just as they began to get their chuckles under control, Daichi’s head shot straight up, and he yelled “I’m awake!”. Combined with the pen ink apparently smeared _all over his face_ , the sight only goaded the other three professors into further peals of laughter as they lowered themselves onto the floor.

This was, of course, the perfect time for Yahaba to walk in. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Seriously, what is wrong with you guys? Oikawa-san, are you okay?”

Yahaba held himself stiffly as he watched his mentors/friends practically roll on the floor, clutching their bellies.

“Sawamura-san, what the hell is going on?” Yahaba appealed. 

“I definitely know because I was awake, grading papers. Like a good professor is supposed to,” Daichi responded clumsily. 

“Sawamura-san, you have pen ink all over the left half of your face and the bridge of your nose.”

“Oh, don’t tell him! Yahaba, you funwrecker!” yelled Suga, still laughing too hard for coherency.

“I apologize, Sugawara-san.”

“Yahaba-kun, do you have a crush on Kyoutani?” Oikawa asked out of the blue.

Yahaba’s eyes widened comically, and he almost dropped his mahogany messenger bag to the floor. He managed to recover by grabbing one of the straps, thankfully preventing the polished leather from scraping against the carpet.

“Well, Kyoutani-san and I are perfectly professional colleagues who will work together efficiently and effectively, so there’s no need for any of you to worry-”

“-what a load of shit,” Oikawa interjected.

Yahaba’s heart raced as Oikawa stared him down. Could Oikawa-san actually read minds? Did he know about last night, when Kyoutani had stepped closer to him and Yahaba could feel his heart in his throat. Or how he’d offered his jacket when Yahaba was cold? Or perhaps, the most damning of all, when his lips barely brushed the shell of Yahaba’s ear, and he’d fully insulted Yahaba (but Yahaba had shivered involuntarily anyway)?

“You hate Kyoken-chan with every fiber of your being.”

Yahaba let out a huge sigh of relief, which was an inherently suspicious action, but his relief was so great he couldn’t help it.

“Absolutely. Hate him so much. Teaching classes with him is going to be like pulling teeth today. _Bane of my existence-”_

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, softly interjecting, “Maybe we stop there, Yahaba-kun.”

Yahaba quickly noticed that everyone in the room wasn’t looking at him anymore. No, they were looking past him, to the doorway. 

Yahaba turned around and came face to face with a hurt-looking Kyoutani.

“Oh god,” Yahaba choked out.

“No, go on Yahaba-kun. Tell me how you really feel,” Kyoutani said gruffly. He turned around and walked out of the room, his hands clenched into fists. 

Yahaba raised a weary hand to his face, shaking just slightly. 

“We made progress, Oikawa-san. And everything I said before was a lie.”

Yahaba ran out of the room to find Kyoutani, dropping his beloved leather bag to the ground, leaving four shell-shocked professors in a silent room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Explain to me what happened, one more time.”

“Kaashi-chan, you’re being kind of annoying,” Oikawa commented.

“Well, Oikawa-san, your blunder may have hurt two people we all care about very much, so forgive me for irritating you.” 

Bokuto gasped dramatically, before pointing at Oikawa and saying loudly, “You managed to _really_ piss off Akaashi!”

“Bokuto-san, _please_.”

“Sorry Akaashi,” Bokuto mumbled quietly. Oikawa watched Akaashi’s fingers twitch with the urge to reach out to Bokuto, but Akaashi remained singularly focused on the issue at hand.

“I go on _one_ long weekend, and everything goes to shit,” Kuroo exclaimed dramatically.

“Actually, Kuroo, everything went a lot better than normal when you weren’t here,” Kenma commented in his usual quiet fashion. Kuroo mimed being shot in the heart, collapsing dramatically to the ground. Oikawa watched Kenma bite his lip to contain his grin. 

“Okay, I can see all the other relationships people can’t see. Why can’t I see Yahaba-kun’s?” Oikawa whined toward Iwaizumi. All four people in the ‘relationships’ chose that moment to look incredibly busy, as Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose at Oikawa’s meddling. 

“I _sincerely_ thought Yahaba and Kyoken-chan hated each other!” Oikawa protested.

Surprisingly enough, it was Bokuto who spoke up at that moment. 

“Psh, like how you and Iwaizumi hate each other?” 

Akaashi smirked at Oikawa’s irate expression.

“ _Exactly._ Literally _everyone_ could see that the two of them were disguising a synergy behind banter and surface conflict.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but _yeah_ ,” Bokuto added on.

“Oh, don’t worry Bo. Akaashi’s just being his English major self. I, for one, love your way of saying things,” Kuroo said from the other end of the room. Bokuto beamed back at him, and Oikawa resisted the urge to roll his eyes at their bromance.

“ _Don’t roll your eyes at us!_ ” 

Oikawa had apparently failed. Akaashi sighed, playing with his hands as he stood up to pace around the room. 

“Yahaba likes it when things are neat. He likes it when people fit his expectations for them. Kyoutani has somehow exceeded his expectations and now he feels like someone pulled the rug out from under him. He wants to pretend that everything is the same.”

Oikawa bit his lip, some awful emotion flooding into him. 

“Hey, does anyone know where the terrible twosome are?” Kuroo asked in an unrelated vein of conversation. 

“God, please keep them at least two miles away from this at _all times_ ,” Akaashi implored, mostly toward Iwaizumi.

“Keep us away from what?” Makki asked, waltzing through the door with Cheshire cat grin affixed on his face. Mattsun followed behind him like some taller shadow. 

Akaashi groaned, banging his head against the cabinets.

“We heard our precious _kouhai_ have fallen in _loooove_ ,” Makki continued, teasing. 

Akaashi looked toward the ceiling before exclaiming, “Yahaba, I hope you know how much I am sincerely trying to help you out here. You owe me like 5000 milkshakes. Or some way for me to get a good night’s rest.”

Unfortunately, Yahaba kind of had his hands full.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Kyoutani, please slow down.”

“Don’t you mean ‘ _the bane of your existence’_?” Kyoutani grumbled, not slowing down in the slightest.

“Kyoutani. Kyoutani. _KENTAROU!_ ” Yahaba yelled, stopping in the middle of the hallway. The area was relatively empty, but some students milled around, watching. Yahaba could’ve melted in relief when Yaku-san poked his head out of an empty classroom, and ushered them in before leaving them alone. 

“I don’t understand why you’re _this_ mad.”

Kyoutani let out a breath angrily. “You really don’t?”

Yahaba looked at him, perplexed. “I mean-”

“I figured that we were on a road to becoming not-enemies,” Kyoutani muttered, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, well. I think we’re on a road to becoming not-enemies too. And, I’m sorry. I didn’t-” Yahaba cut himself off, taking a staggering breath. “-I didn’t mean it.”

Saying it meant admitting an evolution, a change that Yahaba was sure he didn’t want (he was _sure_ ). But losing his anchor, unmooring from the dock, all of it was worth it when Kyoutani looked up at him with a shy smile. 

“If you guys are done, I have a class…?” Yaku-san interjected unsurely, head poking into the room. Yahaba flinched, and Kyoutani let out a rough chuckle. What would ordinarily bother him was so endearing now. Yahaba resignedly added a scream to his daily quota. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, keep going. You’ve almost got it.”

“Yahaba, I know you’re lying.”

The students in front of them struggled to breathe, trying to tamp down on their giggles. 

“No, no, Kyoutani. I promise you’re explaining this correctly.”

Kyoutani tried (and failed) to hide his smile as he looked up at Yahaba with a glare. 

“So, that’s a liquid, that’s a solid, and that’s a gas. I think you guys can write that down.”

Yahaba waved his hand in some spastic hand gesture, his face contorting to avoid being the first one to crack. “Do not write that down,” he said, breaths coming out more rapidly as he tried not to laugh.

He failed. “Everything, you just said, was absolutely incorrect,” Yahaba choked out between peals of laughter. 

“Okay, well-”

“ _The diagram is labeled!”_

“ _I was trying not to cheat!”_

Yahaba just looked at Kyoutani for a couple of seconds before both of them succumbed to their laughter. The rest of the class was similarly unproductive, and soon the students were being dismissed. 

“I have recorded notes on phase diagrams and supercritical fluids, I’ll send them to you. I figured I would need some backup plan since it was highly unlikely Kyoutani-kun would be able to figure this out.”

Kyoutani growled. “Oh, just wait until this afternoon, Yahaba-kun.”

Yahaba stuck his tongue out at Kyoutani playfully, and ushered his students out of the room. The two of them stood in the doorway alone, fidgeting slightly.

“Do you want to get lunch?” Kyoutani asked haltingly, no emotion in his face or voice. Yahaba wondered when he had realized that this is what Kyoutani did when he was afraid of rejection.

When did he begin to _know_ Kyoutani, know him in his bones? What had changed this morning? Both of them had been far more comfortable around each other since, playful touches, more well-intentioned banter, and those goddamn _smiles._

Yahaba realized that he’d just been staring at Kyoutani for far too long, and hastily answered, “Yes! Yeah, I would like that.”

 _That_ smile. Someone should have warned him how dangerous Kyoutani’s smiles were. Akaashi was wrong. The longer Yahaba spent with Kyoutani, the more he didn’t fit any definition Yahaba could’ve given him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So there were some dudes,”

“How many?”

“Like, 12.”

“Yes, 12 total dudes.”

“And some weapons, and planes.”

“How many?”

“Like, four planes?”

“Okay, Yahaba-kun. How long was WWI?”

“A year?”

Kyoutani snorted. “ _This is so worth the morning class,_ ” he chuckled.

“Two years?”

“When was it, Yahaba-kun?”

Yahaba bit his lip, completely unsure.

“Okay, so I really wanted to do the reading, I _promise_. Except, I got home, and then I had to walk my dog-”

“-Yahaba, you don’t have a dog?” Kyoutani interjected, confused.

“Okay, well, do you realize how long that book is? And the font is so _small._ _You had me reading about history._ ”

“ _I’m a history professor_ ,” Kyoutani choked out between his own peals of laughter. 

“So, like 1950?”

Kyoutani cracked up, slipping off from his perch on his desk, his face buried in his hands. The other students in the class were laughing raucously in the background but all Yahaba could pay attention to was Kyoutani.

“God, you’re adorable,” Kyoutani muttered gruffly, wiping at his eyes. 

Yahaba’s breath hitched, and suddenly all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. He was blushing violently, and was dimly aware of the students quieting. He prayed that they hadn’t heard or else they would have another Oikawa-san/Iwaizumi-san debacle on their hands. 

He glanced over at Kyoutani, who was looking straight at him. When had Yahaba started thinking Kyoutani was attractive?

Kyoutani quickly cleared his throat. “Adorably stupid, I mean.”

Yahaba threw a piece of chalk at Kyoutani’s head, dissolving the tension in the air. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yahaba was sure that his good mood wouldn’t hold. 

His caution was not unwarranted. 

“Oh, Yahaba-kun. Why are you so smiley today?”

Yahaba stiffened, ink from his pen bleeding onto the essay he was in the process of grading. Though that wasn’t his primary concern at the time. His concern was Hanamaki-san.

“Ya know, Mattsun. I don’t think we’ve ever seen Yahaba-kun smile as much as he has today.”

Matsukawa-san nodded in the background, his eyes conveying deep amusement. He winked at Yahaba knowingly, and Yahaba blanched.

“Can you read my face now?” Yahaba asked sweetly, glaring as deeply as his facial muscles would allow. 

Hanamaki-san smiled, reaching out to ruffle Yahaba’s hair.

“Our precious _kouhai_ is in ~looooove~!”

“With our other precious _kouhai_ ,” Mattsun intoned deeply.

Yahaba snorted humorlessly. “Kyoutani isn’t a _precious_ anything.”

The room was silent for a couple seconds, and Yahaba chanced a look toward the duo. Hanamaki-san wore the largest shit-eating grin Yahaba had ever seen. Matsukawa-san smirked, slurping his coffee in a self-satisfied manner. 

“So, you’re admitting that you’re in love with Kyoutani.”

“No! What?”

“We never mentioned anything about Kyoutani; you extrapolated.”

“You _implied heavily!_ Do you even have any other _kouhai_?!”

“We’ve adopted Akaashi,” Hanamaki-san supplied.

“Also Kenma,” Matsukawa-san added.

Yahaba groaned, slumping over on the desk. Would someone just make this _end?_

“Makki! Mattsun!” a sharp voice called from the door. Yahaba turned to see his saving grace, and his eyes widened when he realized it was _Oikawa-san_. 

“Iwa-chan needs your help on the other end of campus.”

“Uh-huh,” Makki said skeptically, cocking an eyebrow. 

Oikawa folded his arms over his chest, before leaning forward cockily.

“Either, you can believe that I’m full of shit, take a chance, and deal with an angry Iwaizumi Hajime, _or,_ you can leave the room right now.”

Hanamaki-san leaned forward, as if his greatest desire was to wrap his arms around Oikawa-san’s throat and squeeze the life out of him. He teetered, then he and Matsukawa-san disappeared out the door. Yahaba let out a loud relieved sigh, capping his pen.

“Thanks, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa-san was strangely quiet, and Yahaba looked up in confusion. Oikawa-san was lingering near the door, fidgeting nervously. 

“Do you need anything?”

Oikawa-san blew out a breath, before taking a couple of strides forward, standing just a little too close to Yahaba.

“I know that we haven’t been considerably...close but I want you to know that if you ever have a situation that causes you to, for lack of better metaphor, feel like you got picked up by a satellite just out of deep orbit, you can radio me.”

Yahaba contorted his face in confusion just as he caught a glimpse of the time. He hurriedly began packing up his things, shoving papers into his leather bag haphazardly. 

“Look, Oikawa-san, frankly I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about and I’m running late. Let’s talk later.”

Yahaba left without a second glance at Oikawa-san. Left behind in the empty room, Oikawa collapsed onto a couch, dejected. This really wasn’t his area.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” a voice called from the back door.

“Oh, god,” Oikawa choked. “How long were you even standing there, Iwa-chan?”

“Long enough. What is it with you and being able to handle everyone except Yahaba?”

Oikawa groaned. “I wish I was half as good a _senpai_ as you are.”

Iwaizumi ambled forward, wrapping his arms around Oikawa while leaning over the back off the couch and dropping a kiss to his temple. 

“You are. I got lucky ‘cause Kyoutani respects me.”

Oikawa squawked angrily, wriggling in Iwaizumi’s arms. “So Yahaba doesn’t respect me?”

“I mean it’s unlikely but that’s not what I meant.”

“ _Iwa-chan!_ ”

“I _meant_ , Yahaba knows you’ll be there for him, no questions asked. Do you remember when he came into your office, told you he was changing TA specialties, and asked for your help on how to do it? His tone was decisive, never wavering. He knew you’d be there for him, even if you weren’t his professor anymore.”

Oikawa looked up at Iwaizumi, cheeks adorably flushed, eyes wide, before uttering one syllable: “Ew.”

Iwaizumi threw his head back, laughing, before vaulting over the back of the couch to smother Oikawa, peppering kisses over his face.

“Oh, _gross_!” Suga exclaimed, as the other ten professors began to filter into the room for their evening tradition. “Can’t you two stop being like _this_ for five minutes?”

Daichi wrapped his arms around Suga from the back, murmuring, “We might have to be just as excruciating in retaliation.”

“New rule: Couples need to stay at least ten feet apart in this room, especially during evening meetings,” Kuroo groaned, walking in with his eyes tightly shut.

“Seconded,” Akaashi said, walking in with a sheaf of papers under his arm. Kenma nodded, already buried in his PSP. 

“Hey, where’s Yahaba? And where’s Kyoutani? And seriously, what’s up with them? They had a mature argument this morning,” Yahaba queried, apparently entirely uninformed.

Akaashi pointed sharply at Yaku. “Not it. Definitely, not it. _Anyone_ else can answer it. I’m checking out.”

He flopped back on the couch, narrowly avoiding Iwaizumi, laid his head down on Oikawa’s lap and shut his eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fancy running into you here,” Kyoutani intoned humorously, sliding into the chair next to Yahaba. Yahaba put down the sheets of paper he was grading to narrow his eyes at Kyoutani, smirk playing at his lips.

“That was truly awful.”

Kyoutani grinned, before extending a cup of coffee towards Yahaba.

“Mm, thanks Kyou,” Yahaba murmured absently, eyes roving over the paper in his hands.

Yahaba froze for a second, but urged his body to betray no signs of his inner ‘ _oh shit what did I just do_ ’ turmoil. He flicked his eyes upward for a second, taking in that beautiful pink flush sitting high on Kyoutani’s cheeks, and his little smile. Yahaba relaxed, his cheeks flushing dark, and he bit his lip, extremely pleased.

_Pleased? God, Yahaba. Please get ahold of yours-_

Maybe he could just stop tuning into that specific channel of self-commentary for a couple hours. That would probably help. Yahaba couldn’t suppress his triumphant smirk; take that Responsible Voice™!

In what could only be described as a moment of overzealous triumph, Yahaba took a long sip of coffee out of the cup, not checking the temperature of the liquid inside. The liquid scalded the inside of his mouth and Yahaba spluttered, cursing in what would be best assumed as an unattractive manner. 

“Hot! Hahhaeurh…” Yahaba groaned, fanning at his mouth. He tried not to make eye contact with Kyoutani while he was panting like a dog, and was as such surprised when Kyoutani came into his field of vision.

Kyoutani leaned over a seated Yahaba, and raised his hand to delicately tilt Yahaba’s chin up, cradling his jaw. His brow furrowed as he took a quick look inside Yahaba’s mouth to make sure there weren’t any severe burns. Yahaba’s heart _raced_ , and he could feel his cheeks flushing _again._ Was it possible to blush yourself to death? He might not survive this week.

“You’re so stupid, Yahaba,” Kyoutani murmured. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Kyoutani hadn’t moved from his perch on the desk, leaning over Yahaba casually. His thumb brushed over the length of Yahaba’s jawbone, feeling the smooth skin there. Yahaba shivered. Kyoutani’s hand softly travelled up to cup Yahaba’s cheek, his thumb lightly caressing Yahaba’s cheekbone. 

Yahaba wanted nothing more than to raise his hands to hold Kyoutani’s face, and pull him down for a kiss. Kyoutani’s eyes flicked down to look at Yahaba’s lips, and Yahaba’s breath hitched.

“~Yahaba-kun!~”

Kyoutani jumped, and Yahaba almost batted the cup of coffee to the ground, salvaging the cup at the last moment but losing his own balance entirely. Yahaba slipped from his chair to the ground, accidentally yanking Kyoutani on top of him.

Hanamaki-san entered their secluded corner from one of the long corridors between bookshelves (that specific one had been Buddhist philosophy relating to cosmology) and whistled nonchalantly, barely sparing a glance at the compromising position Yahaba and Kyoutani were in.

“This should be departmental stats on exam progress and student benchmarks. There’s a meeting tomorrow morning with Kuroo, Oikawa, Mattsun, a couple other science profs and the department chair. Oikawa-san circled some things and starred some pages he wanted you to talk about.”

Hanamaki-san paused, flicking idly through some of the pages in the neatly bound folder before dropping it on the table with a loud smack.

“I also have some forms that Iwaizumi-san needed signatures on from Kyoutani-san, to send to students about something something history blah blah.” 

Hanamaki-san tossed the other pieces of paper onto the desk with similar disinterest. Yahaba and Kyoutani were still frozen, staring at each other awkwardly as Kyoutani straddled Yahaba, knees nudging into Yahaba’s hip bones.

Hanamaki-san turned around, and Yahaba almost cried in relief. He thanked every god in the universe that Hanamaki-san hadn’t embarrassed him for once. His _senpai_ could actually be-

“-Oh, and Kyoken-kun? Either get off of my _kouhai_ or _get him off._ Yahaba doesn’t bottom for just anyone you know.”

_Oh my god._

Kyoutani was blushing in earnest from above him, looking anywhere except at Yahaba and scrambling off of him quickly. The two of them took their seats in awkward silence as Hanamaki-san walked off. Yahaba flicked through the pages of the briefing folder he’d been given, not really comprehending any of the words or figures. He could hear Kyoutani scribbling his signature on various pieces of paper, and Yahaba chanced a look over the folder to peek at Kyoutani’s face. Kyoutani glanced up at the same time, and Yahaba felt himself blush as they held eye contact. He tried for a tentative smile, and his spirits rose when Kyoutani smiled back. 

“So, tomorrow.”

Kyoutani cleared his throat. “I can make history interesting for your class, your job is _much_ more difficult.”

Yahaba cocked his head to the side, his eyebrow raised in incredulity. “Why do you say that?”

“You have to make thermodynamics and quantum mechanics interesting to _military history students_.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult since my course material is interesting on its own.”

Kyoutani snorted. “What a blatant _lie_!”

Yahaba couldn’t help it–he let out a soft giggle. _He really needed to stop giggling._

“You can drink your coffee now, by the way. Precious little Yahaba-kun, needing the grown ups to help him drink that mean old cup of coffee.”

Yahaba took a long sip out of the paper cup, throwing up an obscene hand gesture rather than responding verbally. When Yahaba looked back up, he caught Kyoutani watching him, an odd expression on his face. Kyoutani looked away quickly, shuffling papers again.

Yahaba wished to all hell this was awkward. If it was awkward, he could convince himself everything was normal. That _he_ was normal.

But sitting here, in _their_ corner (when had it become their corner?), the fire crackling as the two of them sat close, unable to keep the smiles off their faces - Yahaba knew he could get used to that, very quickly. 

_This was Kyoutani. He-he was gruff. Awful. Rude. He didn’t show emotion. He could be selfish, aggravating._

_This was Kyoutani. He made Yahaba smile. Made him laugh. Made him blush impossibly. Made Yahaba want to pull him closer, wrap him in a warm embrace. He was on Yahaba’s mind, all the time._

_They couldn’t be the same person._

Yahaba had grown somber, the silence pervading the area more morose than before. He fiddled with the buttons on his blazer, his watch getting caught in the strands of thread escaping from some of the frayed lining. His mind was racing, entirely uncomfortable with not being able to fit Kyoutani into the puzzle any longer.

No, that wasn’t even the problem. With a change in his perception of Kyoutani came an unintended change in...his perception of himself? Yahaba’s eyes widened as he stumbled across this realization, still not fully understanding the consequences.

“Oi. Where’d you just go?” A small folded up piece of paper hit Yahaba square in the forehead, bringing him out of his reverie. He looked up, taking in the veiled concern in Kyoutani’s eyes, the incline of his head towards Yahaba. Yahaba let out a shaky breath. 

“Nowhere. I’m here with you, idiot.”

And as he drank in Kyoutani’s incandescent smile, Yahaba was sure that was enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was easy to ignore my anxiety when it seemed like real life was so far away and I was having a period of unprecedentedly good mental health but I can feel it slipping and I'm scared. My end-of-year exam results come out soon, and I really need to get my life together. I want to write but a part of me tells me that it's a lack of productivity. 
> 
> Sorry, you guys. It just makes me feel a little better to get this out in words. I miss writing, and I miss feeling these characters. I need to...I need to figure myself out. 
> 
> It'll be okay. I think.


	3. wednesday, or one (1) downward spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yahaba was on that initial crush high. 
> 
> But, no good feeling goes unpunished.
> 
> Meanwhile, Oikawa and Iwaizumi deal with some trouble in paradise (resultant of mutual idiocy).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I seriously owe you guys cos this is so late and it's not even much longer than an average chapter. Also, it's not even as fluffy as y'all deserve cos I had to set up some conflict.
> 
> Also I wrote some minor iwaoi angst? Who am I?
> 
> Also, I described anxiety, what i believe is a bad day for a person with anxiety. Basically what my days are like when I have a bad anxiety day, though I skipped the feeling faint, the silence, and the not eating. I hope none of it is potentially triggering, but I really have no scale so please you guys, be careful. And this absolutely isn't a comprehensive list of symptoms or anything, nor can you diagnose anything based on my bad description ability. 
> 
> I hope y'all are doing well, and enjoy!!

“It’s been two days. 48 hours. That’s not enough to change your entire perspective on a person.” 

“It’s more than enough time,” Akaashi’s voice came out tinny from the speakers of Yahaba’s phone. “Your perspective on a person can change in a moment.”

“Okay, but, you know what I mean.”

“Say it, Yahaba.”

“Do I have to?”

“If you want an answer…”

“Okay, fine.  _ Two days isn’t enough time to go from hating someone to liking them. _ ”

“Liking them how?”

“Jesus, Akaashi. I have a crush on Kyoutani! I don’t know how much clearer I can get!”

“There we go. That was the admission I was waiting for,” Akaashi said, his voice smug while still retaining its calm nature. 

“Well I’ve been waiting for you to admit the nature of your relationship with Bokuto-san, but I guess-”

“-don’t change the subject. You have a crush on Kyoutani, and you want me to tell you it isn’t a crush.”

“Can you?” Yahaba asked, voice hopeful.

“Well, I could, but I would be lying.” Akaashi then proceeded to hang up on him, while Yahaba groaned. 

He seriously needed to rethink giving these people the title of ‘trusted friends’. He dropped his phone onto his granite countertop before turning to the small French press next to the stove. Deeming it ready, he pushed down on the top before pouring the gloriously strong black coffee into a travel mug Iwaizumi-san had gifted him last year for his birthday. 

Letting his mind wander slightly, Yahaba checked that his stove was off and that he hadn’t left any lights of fans on while dwelling on a serious question posed to their friend group for the past couple years now (which came to the forefront of his mind whenever he brewed coffee): Were Sawamura-san and Iwaizumi-san caffeine-addicted?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Breathe it in, Iwaizumi.”

“Where’d you say the blend was from, again?”

“Costa Rica. The Tarazzu region.”   
“Damn, their harvest might be better this year than last year.”

“It is  _ guaranteed _ to be smooth.”

“But also complex. How does the acidity profile compare to Kenyan blends?”

“Well, no blend really has the same wine-like acidity as a good Kenyan blend.”

Suga broke first. He crumpled the essay he was grading on teaching techniques for ADHD toddlers in his fist, before rolling it up in a ball and aiming it directly in between his husband’s eyebrows.

“If you two don’t shut the  _ fuck _ up anytime soon, I will legitimately kill you.”

“And I would legitimately help,” Oikawa added, his glare losing any playful qualities and hardening into the hatred that would drive even the most loving husband to murder. 

“Koushi…” Daichi complained softly. “It’s a  _ premium blend _ . Please, darling?”

“Shut up, Shittykawa. Your arm strength is weak, you can’t kill me.”

Oikawa scoffed, as Suga was mollified the barest bit. “Two types of relationships,” he commented, his glare directed squarely at Iwaizumi now.

He then turned his attention to Suga. “Suga, keep it together. We’ve been meaning to this for a while now.”

“Right, the intervention.”

Iwaizumi turned incredulous eyes on Suga. “The  _ what? _ ”

“You two have a problem. With coffee,” Suga elaborated.

“It’s a hobby,” Daichi responded.

“Iwa, tell the truth. You’re more attracted to a good Kenyan or Ethopian blend than you are to me.”

“Well, a good Kenyan or Ethiopian blend doesn’t talk half as much as you,” Iwaizumi commented under his breath.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Oikawa said quietly, his anger withdrawing to let out coldness.

“Ookay. I’m intervening about this first,” Suga said, discomfort evident on his face. Daichi had already shuffled down in his seat, shoving his face into the first piece of paper he picked up from the center table (‘Mechanics of Quasars’) and pretending to read. “Did you both get up on the wrong side of the bed today, or something?”

Iwaizumi ran a tired hand through his hair, getting ready to speak. Instead, Oikawa stood up, gathered his things, and walked toward the door.

“Wait, Tooru, where are you-”

“Fuck off, Hajime.”

Oikawa didn’t turn around, walking out the door purposefully. The door slammed shut behind him, the echo reverberating in the uncomfortably still room.

“I’m gonna wager that had nothing to do with coffee,” Daichi tried uncertainly.

Iwaizumi just sighed, shoving the heels of his palms into his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the intervening transit time between home and the university, Yahaba had come to an unfortunate conclusion.

Days were just  _ better _ when you had a crush.

It was awful, and really stepped all over his individualism and independence, but it was just a little bit true. That didn’t mean he didn’t have good days without a crush, he had  _ great _ days without a crush. 

But having a crush just made  _ something _ better. “Connections with people, Yahaba-kun!” Oikawa-san would probably singsong if Yahaba ever admitted this to him. Not that he ever would; he was already having a hard enough time admitting this to himself. 

Like, at this very moment, he was looking forward to embarrassing himself in front of a class full of military history students just so he could see Kyoutani. But more humiliating still was the fact that Yahaba had  _ studied _ so he could  _ impress  _ Kyoutani. 

Studied his own fucking subject.

Yahaba could feel panic rushing just beneath the surface of his emotions. What the hell type of broken person was he, he couldn’t even have crush without panicking about nonexistent ramifications? He shoved it down, essentially the equivalent of hitting the snooze button on an impending breakdown. 

Today was gonna be a good day. He was gonna impress Kyoutani. It was all gonna go right. 

He walked into the faculty room practically whistling. “Good morning!” he wished respectfully to the professors in the room without a backwards glance at them. When he was greeted with stifling silence, Yahaba turned around, confused. 

Iwaizumi-san was hunched over in his seat, glaring deeply into the center table. Sugawara-san was holding Sawamura-san’s hand, though he had an uncharacteristically nervous expression on his face. Sawamura-san had on the expression he used during campus mediation, deeply patient but awfully serious. Yahaba was about to speak up, when Iwaizumi-san  _ snapped. _

“Damn it!” he yelled, backhanding a cup of pens off the table in anger. The resulting noise was deafening. 

Yahaba let out a strangled gasp, his panic overtaking any and all of his good emotions. Loud noises, yelling, none of that was really conducive for him. “Iwaizumi!” Sawamura-san barked sharply. “Control yourself!”

That’s when all three professors turned to look at Yahaba, who was frozen. He was having a hard time breathing, and let out another strangled noise. He tried to remember any of his ordinary breathing techniques. Four counts in, 7 counts out. Rinse and repeat. “I’m sorry!” he yelled as soon as he regained use of his limbs. He rushed out the door before any of the professors could react. 

Suga spared a second to glare at Iwaizumi before turning to Daichi. “Oikawa used to tell us something. Something important about Yahaba-kun.”

Daichi shrugged helplessly, and they both turned to Iwaizumi, only to watch him walk out the door, clearly still dwelling on Oikawa. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yahaba managed to get his breathing under control by the time he was in the hallway of his classroom. Today was supposed to be his good day, his day of jubilee. Iwaizumi-san clearly had his own thing; seems it wasn’t his day of jubilee. No use letting that ruin his own day of jubilee, Yahaba reasoned. 

His breathing was under control, he could feel everything from his fingertips to his toes. He was completely, utterly fine. 

He walked into his classroom, smiling reflexively at his own students before taking a seat in the corner. Kyoutani, things would be better when he saw him.

Still his panic ran as an undercurrent, and regardless of how many times Yahaba pushed the metaphorical snooze button, it wouldn’t disappear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyoutani did another aidless lecture, somehow even better than his first one. Yahaba couldn’t keep himself from raking his eyes over Kyoutani’s lean figure, couldn’t keep himself from leaning into his gravelly voice. Yahaba’s students weren’t necessarily enraptured, but they were paying attention (either to the material or to the attractive professor teaching it). 

Every once in a while, Kyoutani would catch his eye, conveying so much warmth in a single glance Yahaba was afraid he’d burn up. All in all, his crush was alive and well, and Kyoutani could still elicit all the usual reactions.

Still, Yahaba’s hands wouldn’t stop trembling. With only a couple minutes left in the class, the trembling got so bad Yahaba had to clench his fist, which is ordinarily innocuous. However, Kyoutani glanced at him at exactly that moment, and narrowed his eyes, still continuing as if nothing had happened. 

When Kyoutani’s lecture was finally over, Yahaba stood up quickly walking to the front of the class. His knees were slightly weak, something he hadn’t anticipated, and he stumbled slightly before righting himself. “So sorry, legs fell asleep,” he explained casually before standing fully upright and assuming his professorial role.

“Yes, I know Kyoutani-san did a passable job-” “-better than  _ passable _ , Yahaba-san-” “-but remember everyone, you’re STEM majors. If any of you transfer, I will hunt you down and seal you in the ventilation shafts.”

It was a testament to how well his students knew him that even when his tone was more tired than sarcastic they laughed, knowing he was being teasing. Yahaba let out a breath before ending the class, ushering his students out.

“Are you coming, Kyou-”

“-get over here, Yahaba,” Kyoutani growled. 

Yahaba walked forward on autopilot, coming to a spot a couple feet from Kyoutani, who was leaning against his desk. “What’s up?” he asked flippantly. 

“Your hands are shaking, Yahaba. Your hands were shaking throughout my entire lecture.”

Yahaba flexed his hands, trying to deposit awareness everywhere, all the way to the tips of his fingers. They continued to tremble.

“You’re breathing weird too,” Kyoutani observed. He walked forward slowly, projecting his movements, before taking one of Yahaba’s hands into his own. Yahaba nodded, answering the silent request for consent, and Kyoutani wrapped his other hand around Yahaba’s. His touch was delicate, squeezing for just a second before withdrawing to no more than a caress.

Yahaba let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, body still stiff. Kyoutani was still watching him, unsure of what to do. Then, a bit awkwardly, he held his arms out.

Yahaba knew it was probably a bad idea, but he went to him anyway. He allowed Kyoutani to enfold him in a hug, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder. Kyoutani stood stiffly for a second before relaxing, tracing circles on Yahaba’s back. Yahaba’s body finally relaxed, and he let out an involuntary whimper as he provided himself a brief respite from the world in Kyoutani’s arms. 

Wait.

_ What the hell was he doing in Kyoutani’s arms? _ He stepped back quickly, trying not to focus on the loss of warmth. Kyoutani looked away, fidgeting slightly now that his hands were free again. 

“You-you shouldn’t just ignore it.”

Yahaba turned to look sharply at Kyoutani. 

“Your anxiety?”

“My…?” Yahaba must’ve looked offended, since Kyoutani rushed to clarify.

“I mean, whatever it is. It was presumptuous of me to, diagnose…” 

“How did you..?”

“Yahaba. We’ve known each other for  _ years _ .”

Yahaba finally looked straight at hime, with unwavering eye contact. 

“Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, we have.”

Then Yahaba walked forward, his still slightly trembling hand held out. “Lunch?” Kyoutani looked at him, then flicked his eyes down to his upturned palm. Yahaba took in a stuttering breath, willing himself to have faith in someone else. Someone who knew everything and seemed to maybe care for him anyway. Kyoutani licked his lips before grasping Yahaba’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Lunch sounds great.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lunch seemed to be the highlight of Yahaba’s day, since it went downhill from there. He was sitting in  _ their _ corner of the library, on his own, trying to categorize his notes on whatever the hell he was gonna talk about. He’d gotten his panic under control during lunch,  _ finally _ , but being unable to nail this lesson was messing with his mind again.

This was going to be really difficult. The most exciting thing Yahaba could think of to talk about was the nature of positron emissions, or maybe Rutherford’s gold-foil experiment, but those were interesting to  _ him _ . They weren’t going to interest a bunch of history students.

Yahaba knew he was a good teacher, knew he was competent and capable and skilled. 

_ But you’re not charismatic, _ a voice accused in his head.  _ Who would listen to you unless they have to? _

To be fair, Kyoutani’s students had to. Still, Yahaba’s knee had begun to bounce up and down, and he could feel his anxiety closing up his throat slightly.  _ Damnit _ . He was better than this, he was miles better than this.

_ It’s just a bad day _ , an oddly gruff voice soothed internally.

“Okay,” Yahaba finally said out loud. “Okay. Just, need some fresh ideas.”

He had forty-five minutes until the class started; he could stop by Oikawa-san’s office for some tips. The man had a freakish aptitude for science retention; just because he focused on space and physics doesn’t mean he wasn’t ridiculously knowledgable in chemistry concepts too. 

Yahaba took big gulps of air as he walked toward the science offices, getting odd looks from some students (though most barely spared a glance; Yahaba loved college students simply for their apathetic lethargy). 

He approached the door to Oikawa-san’s office, just slightly open. This in itself was concerning; Oikawa-san either had his door wide-open (and his music playing at an impossibly volume) or his door completely shut, elbows-deep in work. Yahaba slowed to a stop in front of his door, standing back in apprehension (based completely in instinct).

Turns out his instinct was correct.

Yahaba noted at this juncture that the surrounding office was completely empty, the environment eerily silent until a loud bang emanated from Oikawa-san’s office.

“Please be careful, Iwaizumi. This  _ is  _ still my office for the time being.”

_ The time being? _ Yahaba’s mind offered in confusion. More importantly, Yahaba noted that Oikawa-san’s voice was scarily cold, scarily calm.  _ And he called Iwaizumi-san  _ Iwaizumi.

“So you’re going to make a decision like this unilaterally?”

Iwaizumi-san’s voice was often gruff when he was irate or tired. This, however, seemed a combination of anger, irritation, and sheer exhaustion.

“I’d love a mature opinion, so when your maturity  _ returns _ , contact me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re the last person to lecture about immaturity.”

“Don’t act like you have any maturity left at this point. Ever since I got the message, you’ve been distant, moody, irritable, throwing a tantrum like a child-”

“-Because my  _ husband _ won’t  _ talk  _ to me about the  _ biggest decision of our lives! _ ”

“ _ I tried to talk to you! _ ”

“ _ YOU TOLD ME WHAT YOU WERE PLANNING TO DO! YOU DIDN’T INDICATE THAT YOU CARED ABOUT MY THOUGHTS AT ALL! _ ” 

Yahaba flinched as Iwaizumi roared, hyperventilation returning in full force. He leaned against the wall for support, knees going weak as his anxiety crashed over him in waves.

“Iwa-”

“-No, shut up Tooru. Here’s where I talk, and you listen. We’re  _ married _ . We were supposed to do all of this shit until we  _ died _ . I didn’t realize your love only went so far as to the point where I’m  _ in your way. _ ”

“ _ Haj _ -”

“-Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? You fell in love when you were just starting out your career. But now you want your independence back, your individuality, so that you can be all ‘me, myself & I’ about your career decisions so you can be  _ great _ . So I’m collateral damage, a plaything you thought you wanted, but were gonna discard when I started to hinder you from whatever fucked-up sense of greatness you think you’re gonna achieve?”

Oikawa-san was silent.

“You don’t get to fucking  _ walk out _ when it’s most convenient for you.”

Yahaba was completely still, still sagging against the wall.  _ Independence, individuality. Falling in love at the start of your career, your love preventing you from greatness.  _

“Because I’m walking out first.”

_ Your love leaving, because you don’t know how to do this. Yahaba, you don’t know how to do any of this. _

Images of Kyoutani flashed through Yahaba’s mind, his smile, his arms wrapped around Yahaba’s trembling body.  _ But I’m not in love with him,  _ Yahaba reasoned. 

_ Not yet, but you’re barely two steps away, Yahaba-kun _ , his mind responded.  _ You can’t do this. _

Yahaba took a deep breath, placed his folder on the nearest desk, and  _ fled. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Because I’m walking out first.”

Oikawa  _ crumpled _ . He fell backwards into his chair, face buried in his arms, sobs hiccuping out. 

Iwaizumi, who had planned to walk out the door in anger, took one look at Oikawa and hesitated. He took a deep breath, and took a couple steps forward, sinking into the seat across from Oikawa. Oikawa wouldn’t stop crying though, not even when Iwaizumi awkwardly patted his hand.

“Oi, Shittykawa, you’re an ugly crier.” This only seemed to make him cry harder (something Iwaizumi knew would happen, but he tried every single time for some reason). 

“Are-are y-you lea-leaving me, H-Hajime?” This was said with some gross sniffling and hiccups in the middle. Iwaizumi never wanted to hold Oikawa more than he did at that moment.

“Do you want me to?” he finally asked. Oikawa shot him a look, one that was made less impactful by the splotchy redness of his face. It still screamed ‘Do I look like I want you to?’.

Oikawa took a couple minutes to compose himself while Iwaizumi perched awkwardly in his chair.

“I’d like to point out that the large majority of what you said wasn’t even close to correct,” Oikawa finally began, his voice steadier. Iwaizumi’s mouth quirked upward slightly but he still didn’t look at Oikawa, choosing instead to study his own clasped hands. 

“I didn’t fall in love with you at the beginning of my career, nor even at the beginning of my interest in astronomy. I fell in love with you before I knew the planets of the solar system, you asshole.”

“And also, my entire experience of individuality and independence (without you) was  _ one year _ in college. And it was awful. And here is where I think I’m on safer ground: I love you. In a forever kind of way. If I’m ever gonna have a chance of being great, it’ll be with you by my side.  _ You know that _ . You just have your head up your ass.”

“Tooru, you decided to leave me behind. You told me you were leaving.”

“Because I wanted you to ask me to stay, idiot.”

Iwaizumi finally looked up, startled. Oikawa was fidgeting, clearly embarrassed. 

“I don’t know, ever since I got the job offer on the other side of the country you seemed like you wanted me to go.”

“ _ How did I give you that impression _ ?”

“You didn’t tell me you didn’t want me to leave you?”

“ _ I’m your husband!! I thought it was implied! With my whole silent brooding thing! _ ”

“Look, you’ve been distant in general recently, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility for me to continue to be insecure about our relationship even after we’ve been married for a little while, I mean have you seen the recent divorce stats-”

“You don’t have to  _ trick me into think you’re leaving me, you psychopath! _ ”

“ _ It was never supposed to go this far but you seemed like you just didn’t care and then-” _

Iwaizumi started laughing, both out of relief and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Oikawa cocked his head to the side, the little furrow of his brow indicating worry still present. 

“Look, Tooru. I didn’t want to tell you I want you to stay because if the position really is better, I’d come with you. I never want to be the reason you don’t do great things. But then you made the decision unilaterally, and I was angry and scared that  _ you  _ were just leaving, and it got out of hand.”

“Iwa-chan, the position  _ isn’t  _ better though. All of our friends are here. We have family, we have kids we’re mentoring-”

“-They’re literally a year younger than us but whatever-”

“-and we have  _ each other _ . I’m sorry for how fucked up this situation is even though  _ technically  _ you started it.”

“I did  _ not _ , but whatever.”

“We aren’t usually this shitty at communication, right?”

“I mean,  _ you _ are but I’m not.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan.”

“No, but there is one other thing.” Iwaizumi took a deep breath. “Daichi and I are working on another course pathway. It’s a lot of late nights. I haven’t been as  _ there _ recently as I normally am.”

Oikawa took a ragged breath. “That  _ sucks _ . Good luck.”

“We’ll figure out the logistics of this whole situation, together. If you want to leave, I’ll come with you. But whatever it is, I never want to leave you, Tooru. I never want you to leave me.”

“I don’t know, Hajime. You had that entire ‘break-up’ speech oddly well-planned.”

“You’re such an idiot. I love you, God knows why.”

“I love you too, mean old grump.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you two have just been the angstiest teenagers because of Oikawa’s most recent job offer? He gets those like twice a month.”

“Well, Suga-chan, it’s also because your husband stole my husband,” Oikawa replied, licking ice cream off of his spoon.

“Oi, your husband equally stole my husband, and we didn’t have a huge argument about it!”

Daichi cleared his throat from the table he was sharing with Iwaizumi in the corner.

“ _ At the university.  _ We didn’t have a huge argument about it  _ at the university _ .”

“Well, you’re probably just more well-adjusted than us, Suga-chan.”

“Big fucking surprise,” Kuroo commented from the corner. 

“Where’s Kenma-chan?” Oikawa retorted sweetly. Kuroo chose that moment to look  _ very  _ busy.

The tranquility was broken when Akaashi strode into the room. 

“What did you say to him, Iwaizumi-san?” he said, all calm composure.

“What are you talking about, Akaashi-kun?”

“You said something, Yahaba heard it, and then he  _ left _ . In the  _ middle of the day _ .”

Oikawa sat up immediately, concern etched in his features. He turned and made eye contact with Iwaizumi, and both of them came to the same conclusion simultaneously.

“ _ -Fuck- _ ”

“ _ -Shit- _ ”

Before anyone could do anything, Kyoutani walked into the room, murderous rage rolling off him in waves. “Yahaba ditched,” he announced. 

“Told me over a  _ text message _ .” Kuroo winced in the corner, even as every other professor in the room sent him a look. 

“What did he say?” Oikawa asked quietly.

“Nothing that makes any fucking sense. ‘I’m leaving you before you leave me.’” 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi looked at each other. “Shit,” they swore simultaneously.

The atmosphere in the room was oddly somber that evening. Every professor ignored the obvious signs of Kyoutani’s anguish, disguised as anger.

But Oikawa watched out of the corner of his eye, watched Kyoutani’s hope solidify as the evening went on. The situation was still salvageable, as long as Yahaba didn’t do anything ass-backwards. He ran a weary hand over his face.

God, there was little to no chance of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay time for some sap from me. You guys are the BEST. The best. I was having a really bad week the last time I posted, and you guys seriously gave me good advice and affirmations. I love y'all, and wish I could abide by you more by providing you more fluff and happiness and stress-busting goodness. You make me want to work harder, and you made me feel lighter during a heavy week.
> 
> Sending the best positivity and hope I have for y'all. I hope you guys are staying healthy and safe.


	4. thursday, or grief and all his friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obviously nothing gets better to begin with.
> 
> Iwaizumi and Oikawa have a LOT of work to do.
> 
> Yahaba and Kyoutani learn some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! Okay, I have to be honest, this was kind of really fun to write. Yes there's a shit-ton of crying and sadness and anger and people being stupid; but I absolutely loved writing Oikawa and Iwaizumi as senpais.
> 
> Some of y'all might think Oikawa is unnaturally helpful in this chapter, but honestly? I think Oikawa would care about Yahaba a lot, have a lot of misplaced responsibility about caring for him, and set aside any and all frivolous tendencies to take care of him. And you see his crackhead spontaneous problem-solver in this chap too.
> 
> I apologize deeply to Kuroo for shoving him in as an object to be insulted. Do I love him? Yeah. Did I set up a kuroken in this world? Yeah, I actually did. But he was just the first random character I thought of to insult (other than Bokuto and I CAN'T insult Bokuto bc he's Bokuto.)

Yahaba was staring at the ceiling. He’d been staring at the ceiling for two hours now, waking from barely fitful sleep far too early to do anything other than lie there, motionless. The sky outside his window was a dark grey, rain pattering uncomfortably loud against the glass. 

_He couldn’t do this_.

He already knew today was an actual Bad Day™, one of the days his therapist gave him all those techniques for. Ordinarily, he would take the day off, spend it in front of the TV and allow himself to break down in intervals. That was Option One.

Option Two was dangerous, risky, but the reward was better. It was the ‘fake it till you make it’ technique, one his therapist _despised._ He could get up, fake being neurotypical, and pray he didn’t break down during the day on campus. (In front of his friends, his mentors, in front of _him_ ). 

Yahaba fumbled for his phone on his nightstand, squinting at how bright the display was when he picked it up.

 _Shit_.

He had 12 missed calls from Oikawa-san, 3 missed calls from Iwaizumi-san, 7 missed calls from Akaashi, and 14 text messages from _him_ , starting with an angry tirade and ending in ‘I hope you’re okay. Call me back. I’m not going anywhere.’ and an accompanying missed call. 

_He had to go in. He couldn’t just hide at home._

Yahaba’s head already pounded, and his limbs had that ethereal, weak, feeling to them. He took a scalding hot shower in an effort to ease his headache, leaning his temple against the chilly stone as steam rose up in spirals. He dressed sluggishly, barely paying attention to what he was wearing. He decided to forego a filling breakfast, his stomach twisting in apprehension at the thought of his usual omelet and orange juice. Or his stomach was just twisting, period. 

He started his coffeemaker, sinking to the floor and leaning against his dishwasher, eyes shut. Getting involved at work was such a bad idea. Getting involved was a bad idea in general. He just wasn’t cut out for liking someone. Letting someone like him. His brain just wouldn’t understand the basic functions of a human being.

Yahaba furrowed his brow, pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes roughly to stop the tears that were forming. _Was this how it was always gonna be? He was never gonna be free of this, this heart-thumping, short of breath, panic and nausea and-_

He let out a shaky breath. He was _fine_ , he was completely fine before all of this. One fucking week, one fucking fundraiser, it wrecked the careful balance he’d set up for himself. But first and foremost, he was a professor. He needed to get back to that. Two more days, and he could let everything return to normal. 

_Nothing will go back to normal, you idiot_. 

Yahaba’s eyes widened. A new voice in his mind (which sounded strangely like a cross between Akaashi and Oikawa-san) was rather clear, and annoying. Oh god, the last thing he needed was multiple personality disorder. 

“Right, well, guess I have to do this,” Yahaba voiced aloud. Then he slapped himself across the face with as much power as he could. 

_Motherfucki-Ow!_

His cheek _burned_ , and Yahaba used the burn to center himself. He reached up for his coffeepot, pouring coffee haphazardly into a travel mug, ducking into the bathroom to check that there wasn’t too much of a noticeable mark on his face before leaving the house quickly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, wow. Yahaba, you really look like death on a Triscuit.”

Kuroo snorted quietly at his own joke, and ordinarily Yahaba would’ve been anywhere from amused to uncaring. And Yahaba was trying to emulate normalcy. That’s the only way Option Two had any chance of working. 

“Go fuck yourself, Kuroo-san.” 

You could have heard a pin-drop in the room after Yahaba’s serious pronouncement. It wasn’t that insults were uncommon; in fact, they were too common. It was that Yahaba was rarely crass, and he rarely insulted any of the professors (other than _him_ ). Not to mention, it was clear he wasn’t being teasing about it.

Kuroo swallowed, cocking his head to the side in concern. Asahi-san had already fled the room, his non-confrontational nature winning out. Most of the professors were absent, but Akaashi and Kenma both looked up, eyes wide in concern.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said quietly. Bokuto apparently needed no further explanation, as he tugged on Kuroo’s arm and left the room. Yaku followed suit. 

“Yahaba, what is going on?” Akaashi finally asked when the three of them were alone in the room. Yahaba shrugged, not making eye contact with his friends. 

“You left in the middle of the day yesterday, you’re not talking to us, you cursed out Kuro,” Kenma listed. 

“You told Kyoutani you were leaving him before he left you,” Akaashi finished.

Yahaba still didn’t look up, busying his hands with sorting essays he’d pulled out of his mahogany messenger bag. 

“Liking Kyoutani isn’t a problem, you know that right?” Akaashi continued softly.

When Yahaba still didn’t respond, Akaashi let out an exasperated breath, seemingly cutting to the chase. “Shigeru. When was the last time you saw Takeda-san?” Takeda-san, of course, was his therapist. 

“Because, you’re obviously going through something. Things are changing in your life, and while the progress is good, your mind isn’t registering it as such. You need to talk things through with _someone_.”

Yahaba rolled his eyes. “Look, nothing’s changing. I left yesterday because I’m tired of him. It’s possible for me to get tired of people, you know. I got to know him, but all the things about him that used to piss me off still irritate me beyond belief.”

Akaashi sucked in a sharp breath. Kenma’s eyes narrowed. 

“You know Iwaizumi-san was concerned we wouldn’t be able to get along. So I played along, I pretended to give a shit about him. But the week is ending, and it would just be tiring to keep this farce up.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie about this to you?”

“You’re lying to _yourself_ , Yahaba,” Kenma said seriously. 

“I’m really not, you guys,” Yahaba said with a short laugh. “I couldn’t care less about him or his opinions on me. Look, when it comes down to it, he’s immature, irritating, aggressive, and none of that is attractive to me in the slightest. I hate him, and he really is the bane of my existence. The quicker he can get out of my life, the better.”

“Then I’ll leave right now.”

Yahaba’s blood ran cold, as Akaashi and Kenma’s heads shot up, turning to the corner by the door where Kyoutani was apparently standing for quite some time. 

The look on his face was _heartbreaking_. 

Akaashi and Kenma exited the room so quickly, Yahaba was surprised they didn’t leave skid marks on the floor. 

“You know, Yahaba-san,” Kyoutani started, voice distant and low. “This is the second time that I’ve walked in on you telling our friends you don’t like me in the slightest. That you _hate_ me. And that first time, somehow, it hurt more.”

“Because this time, part of me thinks I should have expected it. Because you’re known for it. You push people away, people who want to care about you. Oikawa-san is your mentor, and you barely give him the time of day. I wanted to care about you, and let’s be real Yahaba, you fairly transparently _wanted_ me to care about you. But you can’t let it happen, can you?”

Yahaba’s breath hitched uncomfortably. 

“ _Look at me, Yahaba._ Because I want you to know I mean it when I say that you are just too much fucking work. You’re exhausting. You bottle up all of your emotions because you’re incapable of showing them, and you’re afraid of _everything_. You don’t want me to love you? Well that was fairly presumptuous of you, since I don’t. And I guess I probably never will.”

Yahaba was having a hard time breathing, barely able to hear Kyoutani over the sound of the blood pulsing in his ears.

“I never thought I would say this, but you’re broken, Yahaba.” 

Yahaba sucked in a deep breath, hand curling into a fist as his anger flared. 

“Not in all the ways you’re probably thinking. You’re broken because you couldn’t let me in. Not for one second. And every other broken part of you, I was ready to care about. But not that one. Damn, I was stupid for wasting my time on you.” Kyoutani’s voice cracked slightly, and Yahaba’s eyes flicked upward, finally registering his red eyes, and the solitary tear that carved a path down his cheek. 

“But you want me out? Then let’s end this _farce_. And if I ever see you again-” Kyoutani’s voice cracked more noticeably. “-it’ll be too soon.” 

Yahaba just watched as he stormed out, slamming the door. An overwhelming part of him yearned to jump up, grab Kyoutani’s arm, cry, do _anything_. It felt as if a blanket of numbness was spread across his entire body, his arms and legs anchored to their positions unwillingly. 

Yahaba sat entirely still, staring at one spot on the wall. Nearly twenty minutes before he regained sensation in his arms and legs, and even then he was unable to cut through the white noise in his mind. 

Yahaba raised his phone, checking the time absently. Some deeply ingrained part of himself reacted subconsciously to the time, as he stood robotically. 

He found himself preoccupied with the idea of water. _Wasn’t it rather inconvenient that water takes so long to boil? It was difficult to be patient enough to wait for water to really boil. But if you put whatever you’re cooking in too early, it might not cook properly. And it wasn’t even like you could boil things in some nonpolar substance. It wouldn’t be the right fit. You just had to be patient._

You just had to be patient. 

Yahaba looked up to find himself standing in the doorway of his classroom, most of his students seated already. 

“Hi Yahaba-san. What are you doing here? Isn’t Kyoutani-san supposed to be teaching us today?”

Yahaba flinched violently, before glaring unfairly at the student who asked the question. “Kyoutani-san is indisposed, I’m just going to teach today,” he responded vaguely. 

“Is Kyoutani-san okay?” another student inquired. Yahaba wrapped a hand around the edge of his desk, squeezing to anchor himself. 

“I’m sure he’s fine.” 

“I sure hope he’s doing okay,” another girl said. At this point, Yahaba’s knees were shaking. “It was really lucky that we got him, and not some other stuffy history professor.”

Yahaba gave an aborted nod, organizing random stacks of paper on his desk. 

“Are you okay, Yahaba-san?” a student closer to the front asked. He seemed to have noticed Yahaba going paler and paler as the conversation continued. 

Yahaba gave another nod.

“Plus, Yahaba-san. You always seemed so much happier around Kyoutani-san.”

_No, no, please don’t._

“Maybe not happier, but like your worries couldn’t touch you.”

_Oh god._

“And I don’t think I’d ever seen Kyoutani-san smile before you two started working together this week.”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Yahaba finally roared, slamming his fist against the table. Most of the students gasped, as the girl who was talking squeaked softly. One by one, they began to offer soft apologies, but the damage had already been done. 

_Dear god, what did I do?_

Yahaba belatedly realized tears had begun to flow down his face. 

_He was enough. He was more than enough for me._

Yahaba gave one pathetic sob before curling in on himself, sinking to the ground. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck do we do?”

The students in Yahaba-san’s class were perplexed, to say the least. 

“We have to do _something_.”

“We can’t just let him keep sobbing in front of us, he’d be mortified later.”

“But what are we supposed to do? We can’t take him anywhere. It would be suspicious if all of us just huddled around some sobbing person and transported them off-campus. It’s not exactly inconspicuous.”

“We need to call someone. One of his friends.”

“I assume Kyoutani-san is off-limits.”

“God, you’re a douchebag. Of course he’s off-limits.”

One of the girls stood up so quickly, her chair began to teeter off-balance. “What about Akaashi-san? They’re friends right? They have lunch together a lot.”

“I don’t know any way to contact Akaashi-san quickly. Plus he’ll probably be across campus right now, right?”

“Daichi-san and Iwaizumi-san kind of ooze competence. They’d probably know what to do.”

“Same issue. Too far away, and none of us can contact them quickly.”

“Why the fuck did we have to be STEM majors?”

“Uh, guys? I think he’s starting to hyperventilate.”

True to form, Yahaba had begun to hyperventilate, clutching his desk and choking on his sobs. 

“Okay, this is like the worst idea I’ve ever had. Please forgive me.” The boy in question immediately tore out of the room, while everyone stared after him, wide-eyed.

The room was oddly silent for a couple seconds, before one of the girls put her hand up. When everyone turned to look at her, she posed a rather important question:

“He isn’t the one who’s usually stoned right?”

“No, we’re still here,” a group answered from the other end of the room. 

“What about the cocaine dude?” another student asked.

“Hey, I just sell it. You don’t get high off your own product, guys.”

For some reason, this was the only assurance the students needed, as they all returned to their own seats and began to kill time on their phones. 

“You guys ar-are kind of great,” Yahaba choked out, his breathing having evened out slightly in the past minute. 

Every student in the room shot him the most genuine smile they could muster up. “Help is hopefully on the way, Yahaba-san,” one of the girls said softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Not 45 seconds later, Oikawa-san walked in far too casually. 

“I’m here, in all of my resplendent glory. What’s going on? Haru-kun barely explained where we were going, he was gasping so much. You probably need to join a sport, or at the very least take a PE class. Where’s-”

He cut himself off as he caught sight of Yahaba crying, curled up on the floor. 

“It only happened a couple minutes ago. We were talking about Kyoutani-san-” Yahaba gave a responding shudder, and a soft whimper “-and he blew up at Mika-san before breaking down.”

Oikawa stared at Yahaba for a couple seconds, apparently buffering.

“Okay,” he started. “Okay.” 

Then he turned around, looking directly at the students. “Everyone out. Class is dismissed for today. I’ll have a recorded lecture for you on whatever you were learning by the end of the day. I sincerely doubt anyone is going to care, but with the crackdown on attendance, if anyone gives you any trouble tell them to contact me.”

The students filtered out, most of them tossing a quick ‘thank you’ or an apology to the pair of professors. 

“Shigeru. What happened?” Oikawa ran a soft hand down the length of Yahaba’s arm comfortingly. Yahaba choked on a sob again. 

“Not here,” he managed to say, struggling to his feet. Oikawa quickly wrapped an arm around him, supporting his weight as they began to walk out of the room. At the doorway, Yahaba stopped abruptly, turning to look at Oikawa. 

“Thanks, Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa’s gaze went soft, holding an incredible amount of sadness. “Oh, Yahaba-kun. I just wish I could have kept it from getting this far.”

Yahaba smiled sadly, leaning his head slightly on Oikawa-san’s shoulder. He was suddenly so tired. 

“I promise you, Yahaba-kun, we will fix whatever went wrong.”

Yahaba couldn’t help the reflexive quirk of his lips. Oikawa-san always kept his promises, but this one would be a tall order.

“Before you promise that, I think you should know what went wrong.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An odd reality of a college campus was that it wasn’t always concerning when sounds of destruction filtered out from a distant room.

It just happened. If Iwaizumi ran in concern to each one, he would be too out of breath to teach his classes, not to mention he’d know many things he didn’t want to know. 

That was the rationale he used to justify not entering the adjacent classroom immediately when the sound of someone murdering _something_ emerged in the middle of a lecture. 

“While it may lean more economics, a good understanding of the fund str-” a loud bang echoed from the adjacent room. “-sorry, a good understanding of the fund structure of the International Monetary Fund-” another violent noise, followed by a loud grunt. “-okay everyone get out. I was wrapping up anyway, and there’s either something that needs my attention or a serial killer in the next room.”

It was a testament to the apathy of his students that they didn’t bat an eye at the noises, walking out largely unaffected. 

Iwaizumi walked back to the office to drop off some of his stuff, as well as discuss with Daichi whether or not he should disturb whatever was inside the adjacent room.

“Hey, there’s something that’s absolutely _destroying_ the room next to our lecture room,” Iwaizumi mentioned casually, perching on the edge of Daichi’s desk.

“That’s Kyoutani,” Daichi said absently, paying more attention to whatever was on his phone. 

“What?” Iwaizumi asked, alarmed. Damn, that means that something had happened to the two of them. “What’s going on with him?”

“He’s in a bad mood,” Daichi remarked, still not paying attention (though frowning appropriately).

“Can you stop flirting with Suga and help me out here?” Iwaizumi asked, barely-withheld irritation coating his words.

“Flirting with-You think I’m flirting with Koushi? No! I’m not,” Daichi said, finally tossing his phone to the side and ranting out his frustrations. “I’m dealing with Asahi!”

“What’s going with Asahi?” Iwaizumi asked, confused.

“One of the guys from the athletic department, Nishinoya, told him that he liked his hair better before the lime green. Now, Koushi and I are both sure this was said in some offhand, casual sort of way, but Asahi has been breaking down into tears at random intervals because he _likes_ Nishinoya-”

Iwaizumi had made a valiant effort, but he finally succumbed to the hilarity of the situation, snorting loudly.

“Don’t you _dare_ laugh, Iwaizumi. Koushi thinks this situation is _so romantic_ , so now I have to leave in the _middle of the fucking day_ , to take Asahi to the _hair salon_.”

Iwaizumi bit his fist to hold in his laughs.

“And you know the worst part? I know Nishinoya. And if he likes Asahi, he doesn’t give a crap what color his hair is. Asahi could cut off his legs and Noya would still like him. And I’ve been trying to get that into his thick fucking skull-”

“-Was it this hard for us? I’m trying to remember,” Iwaizumi interrupted suddenly. When Daichi looked at him quizzically, he continued:

“To get our shit together. Sure, for me and Oikawa it took _longer_ , but we were never insecure about our feelings for each other. We just weren’t sure if we wanted to blow up a friendship for something without a guarantee. And now, Yahaba and Kyoutani are a huge mess, and Asahi thinks that whether this boy likes him is dependent on the color of his hair.”

“I don’t know, Iwaizumi. But everyone’s different. Ignoring Asahi, ‘cause he’s just being _stupid,_ we always knew it would be more complicated for Kyoutani and Yahaba. They’re both alike in so many ways, and different in a dozen other ways. Plus, you can’t deny that everything that’s happening for them is happening _way_ too fast. And especially for Yahaba, where change is the bane of his existence?”

The two of them sat in silence for a couple seconds, the mood having taken a sudden turn for the somber. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Daichi remarked suddenly. “‘We should have protected them from this better. We knew it was coming.’”

“Don’t call me a papa bear again,” Iwaizumi groaned. 

“Nah. At least, you’re not alone in it. I knew what you were thinking, because I was thinking it too.”

Iwaizumi smiled softly, before swiftly stealing a sip of coffee from Daichi’s mug. Even if he had seen this coming, sometimes you need to take a risk. Sometimes you need to have faith. 

_Come on, Shittykawa,_ Iwaizumi prayed. _Don’t screw this up_ . Because if Kyoutani was tearing a room apart, Yahaba was probably tearing _himself_ apart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a mistake. This was a mistake, and Oikawa needed Suga-chan. Or Kaashi-chan. Mori-chan. At this point, he’d take Bokuto. 

He was an awful _senpai_. 

He was comforting enough; in fact, he’d been comforting Yahaba for the past half hour already. Except, he hadn’t stopped crying, hadn’t stopped heaving air in between sobs like his mother had died or something. 

Jesus, he was an awful _senpai_. 

The thing is, Oikawa was a problem-solver; he was ready to solve this particular problem.

Except, he didn’t exactly know what the problem was. Yahaba hadn’t told him yet. 

Oikawa knew there were issues with crying too long; he was, of course, a serial crier. When he was 13 he had watched ET for the first time, broken down into tears and had sobbed for a half-hour before Iwa-chan had flicked him directly in the middle of the forehead, shoved a glass of water in his hands with a gruffly uttered ‘ _dehydration, dumbass_.’ 

He should get Yahaba water, except every time he shifted even slightly, Yahaba fisted Oikawa’s button-down tighter, reminiscent of an inconsolable toddler. The thought made Oikawa smile despite himself, but it also reminded him how much he cared about Yahaba, and how much he wished Yahaba would let him fix this problem for him, _damnit._

Oikawa smoothed a hand across Yahaba’s ash brown hair, as Yahaba came up for air. Tears welled up in his eyes again, but Oikawa really, _desperately_ , needed to do something. He quickly wiped the tears away before they could stream down his face. 

“Hold your breath, Yahaba.” Oikawa tried for the sternest voice he could manage, and it must have surprised Yahaba because he complied. Fun fact, it’s difficult to cry brokenly when you’re holding your breath. 

Oikawa stood up quickly, running for the fridge in the corner of the teacher’s lounge. He was sure that this would only work for a couple seconds, and the best thing to do was get him hydrated. 

“I have Mori-chan’s aloe vera juice, Iwa’s yogurt drink, or a bottle of water.”

“Water’s fine,” Yahaba said, voice croaking pathetically. Oikawa threw the water bottle behind him with startling accuracy for a blind toss, before snagging Iwa-chan’s yogurt drink for himself. 

“He’ll live,” he said by way of explanation. 

The room was uncomfortably silent for a couple moments, the only sounds constituted by Yahaba’s sniffles. Finally, Yahaba broke the silence.

“Are you and Iwaizumi-san getting divorced?” he asked softly, voice conveying only exhaustion. 

“What? No, of course not,” Oikawa answered, startled. Yahaba looked up at him, confusion evident. 

“You, he said-”

“Yahaba-kun,” Oikawa interrupted, voice impossibly soft and eyes kind. “Couples fight.”

“It’s just what you do,” he continued. “When you love someone, you’re bound to have conflict over some things. Sometimes, you even argue over the fact that you love each other.”

Yahaba was silent, his eyes trained on the water bottle. 

“Relationships take effort. Loving someone, it takes effort. Sometimes you lose yourself. But you find yourselves in each other.”

Yahaba still didn’t react.

“Wanna know what Iwa-chan and I were fighting about? Well, I got a job offer on the other side of the country. I didn’t want to go, he didn’t want me to go, but neither of us knew that the other wanted everything to stay the same. He was being distant lately, and I was afraid. I told him I was leaving and then he was afraid. When we finally talked about it (albeit, dramatically), we found out we were both just a little bit out of sync. Had we communicated our insecurities and worries with each other, none of it would have happened.”

Yahaba’s hand tightened around the water bottle, and the plastic crinkled loudly. 

“But that doesn’t mean we’re going to have perfect communication from this point forward or anything. Because people in a relationship are still human. Not communicating initially doesn’t mean your relationship is awful; it just means you’re human. _Never_ communicating? Less good. But the entire point of a relationship is making the conscious decision at some point that the two of you can collaborate to handle a situation _better_ than if you were each alone. That you love someone enough to tell them about your day, tell them about yourself. To let them know you.” 

Yahaba looked up at him, a small smile on his face. But in that moment, that small smile was the biggest victory Oikawa could remember.

“ _Thanks, Oikawa-san_ ,” he said.

Oikawa let out an astonished laugh. “Well, you don’t have to say it like _that_ ,” he teased softly.

They both sat in a more comfortable silence, until Oikawa finally asked the question.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

Yahaba cocked his head to the side, considering his options. He then took a shuddering breath, and began to talk. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uh,” Iwaizumi began, his knuckles rapping sharply at the door. “Kyoutani-kun. Can you let me in?”

“No,” a gruff voice said from inside. 

“Okay, well, you have to,” Iwaizumi said again.

“Nah,” Kyoutani responded.

Iwaizumi sighed angrily. “I’ll write you up for destroying university property.”

“I’m not destroying university property,” Kyoutani replied. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, can you please just let me in so I can make sure you’re fine and the room is fine?” Iwaizumi finally yelled. Iwaizumi was seriously considering breaking the door down but the lock clicked and the door swung open. 

Kyoutani had not been lying when he said he wasn’t destroying university property; they were, however, going to have to pay the janitors overtime.

“Are these clay busts from the art department?” Iwaizumi asked incredulously. 

“The screwed-up ones, yeah. Bokuto-san let me have them,” Kyoutani replied. Iwaizumi scrubbed a hand over his face while resignedly adding a name to his mentally tally of people to beat the shit out of. 

“Did you _buy vases to destroy_?” Iwaizumi asked, increasingly frustrated.

“Oh yeah. That’s what I started with. I ran out pretty quickly though.”

“Oh, my god. You are, this is-just, oh my god.”

“I have a good reason,” Kyoutani said sullenly. 

“What’s that?”

“Can’t tell you,” he said shortly. 

Iwaizumi huffed out a breath, drawing from reserves of patience built up over twenty years of dealing with Oikawa. 

“Okay. okay. We’re gonna work off your anger more productively.”

“More productively?” Kyoutani asked, seemingly irritated at the insinuation that his current outlet was unproductive.

“Let’s make this clear: literally fucking anything is more productive than _this_ ,” he said, gesturing wildly around him. “But if you’re angry we’re gonna work it off. Plus, I’m pretty irritated today too. And I’d really like to break something.”

Kyoutani wordlessly handed him a lopsided bust of what looked like Mufasa from the Lion King.

“Nope. Just sit tight for a second,” Iwaizumi said. He pulled out his cell phone, scrolling down his speed-dial until he found who he was looking for.

“Daichi, who did you say you knew in the athletics department?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iwaizumi rarely patted himself on the back. He rarely boasted, was rarely self-congratulatory. He left all that to his beloved husband, who had it in spades. 

Still, he thought he deserved a toast for this one. 

Kyoutani’s back arched as he jumped off the ground, hand making contact with the volleyball with a satisfying _smack_ . The ball hit the ground with a resounding _thud_ which echoed off the walls.

Kyoutani landed gracefully, bending his knees to absorb the impact in his quads, before pumping his fist in what could only be described as primeval triumph. 

Noya shouted encouragement from his position setting. “Are you sure you’re a history professor? ‘Cause you’d make a badass volleyball coach!”

“That’s enough of that, Nishinoya-san!” Iwaizumi called, lighthearted.

“One more,” Kyoutani said gruffly, lining up with a ball in his hands. Iwaizumi watched him toss it up in a high arc, and Noya got in position to set. Noya wasn’t a bad setter for a libero, though Iwaizumi kind of preferred Oikawa’s tosses (a thought he was trying desperately to tamp down on). Kyoutani got in position to spike again, and Iwaizumi let his mind drift. 

_What could it have been, that destroyed them both so much?_

The slam of the ball against the gym floor shook him out of his thoughts. By then, Kyoutani was approaching him, hand held out for the water bottle. Iwaizumi handed him the bottle wordlessly, and the two stood in uncomfortable silence for a little while. 

“What happened?” Iwaizumi finally asked.

“Nothing,” Kyoutani answered gruffly.

“It’s not _nothing_.”

Kyoutani snorted humorlessly. “I was nothing.”

“To Yahaba-kun?” Kyoutani nodded shortly, adopting an unaffected air (which failed miserably).

“That’s a load of shit,” Iwaizumi said resolutely. 

Kyoutani looked at him skeptically. “You walk in on Oikawa-san saying he hates you not once but _twice_ , and then we can talk.”

“I’ve walked in on Oikawa saying he hates more times than I can _count_.”

Kyoutani shot him a stunned look, and Iwaizumi decided this would be a good time to elaborate.

“He hates me once a week. He hates me every time I put his alien pajamas in with my wash cycle and they come out wrinkled.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Then what?”

“He said he didn’t care about me, didn’t want me around, couldn’t even tolerate me without you telling him to,” Kyoutani bit out, looking up at Iwaizumi with red-rimmed eyes. Iwaizumi’s heart tugged softly; damn, the odds of this being salvageable were lowering by the second.

“I can count the number of people who care about me and want me around on _one hand_ ,” Kyoutani mumbled. “I was really hoping he’d be one of them.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck. I know you’re a history prof but you can’t be that shitty at math.”

Kyoutani looked up at him, irritated. “What the hell are you-”

“You have five fingers on one hand.”

“Uh, yes?” Kyoutani answered impatiently.

“There are _thirteen_ of us. That’s two hands and a foot, dumbass.”

Kyoutani looked at him incredulously. “But I’m not-”

“-You’re part of the group. We care about you. You’re our friend. Get that into your thick skull. _Thirteen of us._ ”

“Hey I like him too, I think he’s pretty awesome!” Noya added from a couple feet away.

“See?” Iwaizumi continued. “Fourteen. So stop. Forever stop that line of thinking.”

Kyoutani quirked a small grin, and Iwaizumi felt the urge to fist-pump. 

“Now about Yahaba. There are things I need to know, and there are things you need to know. Don’t dismiss this out of hand, Kyoutani. Now, you start.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You really said all that?”

“Uh…”

“Yahaba!” Oikawa yelled, before grabbing a pillow from the adjacent couch and bludgeoning Yahaba upside the head.

“What the fuck, Oikawa-san?”

“You just _forcefully_ shoved away the man you are _two inches_ from loving _with the most hurtful language possible!_ ”

“ _Yeah, I’m well aware!”_

“Not to mention, in all of your concern over your own insecurities and your own anxieties, did you bother to consider his?” Oikawa asked, eyes fierce and calculating. He watched Yahaba look down in shame; the thought apparently hadn’t dawned on him before. 

“Kyoken-chan is insecure about never being cared about; he’s afraid that his gruff exterior prevents people from really seeing him and caring about him. And what did you do?”

“I pushed him away,” Yahaba said miserably.

“ _You pushed him away!_ ” Oikawa reiterated. He hit him with the pillow one more time for good measure before discarding it to the side in favor of running a hand through his hair.

“There’s something else we need to talk about,” Oikawa said, a little uncertain. Yahaba nodded, though the look in his eyes was distant. 

“When was the last time you sat down with Takeda-san?” Yahaba flinched, before immediately plastering a smile on his face.

“I don’t really need him anym-” Oikawa scoffed (though not unkindly) and cut him off.

“I’m so sorry Yahaba-kun, but this isn’t one of those things you grow out of.”

“I was doing better, for quite a while,” Yahaba finally said, eyes stormy. 

“You were. But your life was predictable for a little while there wasn’t it? You were in your safe space.” When Yahaba didn’t interrupt, Oikawa kept going. “It’s not out of the realm of possibility that when things seemed to change a bit too rapidly your mind tried to warn you in the only way it knew how.”

“It’s not a failing, Yahaba. It’s just a trait. I told you that years ago, and I’ll tell you for as long as I know you.”

“I need to work on myself a little bit,” Yahaba remarked, a slightly sad smile on his face.

“We all do, Yahaba-kun. That’s just what life is. But I think there’s a certain someone who would probably enjoy being by your side while you do.”

Yahaba’s smile grew wider, and somehow impossibly sadder. “He would have been enough for me, more than enough. How did I manage to lose him before we even got started?”

Oikawa’s hand slowly reached out for the discarded throw pillow, all while making uncomfortable eye contact with Yahaba.

“ _You didn’t TALK. TO. HIM,_ ” Oikawa yelled, punctuating each word with a swing of his pillow. Yahaba shrieked, but eventually broke into laughter. 

“Tell him exactly what you told me. I’m not guaranteeing you a win, but I’m guaranteeing you a chance,” Oikawa said more seriously. Yahaba nodded with a smile, his eyes filled with determined fire. _That_. That was what Oikawa had seen when he’d first mentored him. That was Yahaba’s potential. 

Kyoutani didn’t stand a chance. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyoutani looked about ready to punch a wall. And usually, that would equally concern and infuriate Iwaizumi; right now though, he just wished he could do more.

“Look, there’s a lot I can’t tell you,” he began delicately. Kyoutani cut him off one more.

“And like I said the first twenty times, _why the fuck not?_ ”

“ _Because I don’t fucking know!_ ” Iwaizumi exploded. “And, language,” he added as an afterthought, fully aware of the hypocrisy. Kyoutani snorted humorlessly, eyes fixed on the volleyball net that quivered just slightly on its poles. 

“Look, there are things Oikawa _can’t_ tell me. Not legally or anything, just as a good mentor. It would have been betraying Yahaba’s confidence. I know some things, just not _everything_.”

“So tell me _those_ things.”

“Some of that isn’t for me to tell,” Iwaizumi continued, fully understanding Kyoutani’s frustration. “It’s personal to Yahaba. Too personal for me to tell you, even though I’m 95% sure he’s in love with you and would want you to know.”

“He’s never going to tell me, Iwaizumi-san. We’re over.”

Iwaizumi turned to fully face Kyoutani. “How can you be so sure of that?” he asked, his eyes narrowed in a calculating expression so similar to Oikawa’s that Iwaizumi would deny the existence of such an expression in his repertoire ‘til kingdom come.

At Kyoutani’s silence, Iwaizumi pressed further. “Yahaba could change his mind. More likely, he’ll realize he didn’t mean it. And he’s the only one who mouthed off, _right_?”

Kyoutani continued to remain silent, staring at the ground instead.

“What did you say?” Iwaizumi groaned, weary tone evident. 

“A whole shit-ton I didn’t mean,” Kyoutani mumbled, toeing at the ground with the tip of his sneaker. 

“And some you did mean but would never say?” Iwaizumi asked. Kyoutani’s startled upward glance was confirmation enough. “Okay. Can I ask you a question?” Kyoutani nodded, though the look in his eyes was suspicious now at Iwaizumi’s sudden complacence. 

“You’re blunt with everyone. You tell everyone exactly what you think of them.” Iwaizumi didn’t wait for a confirmation; he knew firsthand how blunt Kyoutani could be. 

“Why would you have never said everything you said this morning? If you meant some of it, why do you wish you could take it back?”

The question hung in the air for a couple moments, the silence in its wake damning enough. 

“Don’t say it,” Kyoutani begged, voice quieter than Iwaizumi had ever heard it.

“Don’t you think you need to hear it said out loud?” Iwaizumi asked gently, trying not to push (but internally pulling his hair out). Kyoutani shook his head imperceptibly, eyes squeezed shut as if not being able to see Iwaizumi would make the truth any less real.

“You care about him. You care about him so much you never wanted to hurt him. You are so close to loving Yahaba it’s tearing you up inside.” Iwaizumi was sure he had pushed too hard, waiting for Kyoutani to blow up, maybe even throw a punch.

Kyoutani looked up at him, eyes rimmed red. A single tear slid down his cheek, dropping to the gym floor below. Iwaizumi stared back at him with wide eyes, his breath practically knocked out of him. 

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have any protocol for this,” Iwaizumi begged. Then Kyoutani let out a soft bark of laughter, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “I won’t,” he said, voice tight. 

“I fucked everything up, Iwaizumi-san.”

“Language,” Iwaizumi said reflexively. _Damn you, Oikawa. I never used to be this anal about the language_. “And, you didn’t. We can still fix it. The way I see it, you’re both on equal footing. You both said stupid, bull-headed crap to each other that you don’t entirely mean. You’re both fairly distraught.”

“Well,” Kyoutani laughed, wiping at another tear. “ _I’m_ fairly distraught.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly. “Yahaba’s been crying all over Oikawa for the past hour in our room. Don’t worry, you’ve still got a shot.”

“I-I made him cry?” Kyoutani seemed more aghast by that news than anything else Iwaizumi had said in the entire past conversation.

“Yeah, you’re completely fucking _whipped,_ Kyou-kun.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Alright...Kyou-kun.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Yahaba walked into his apartment that night, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spot he’d collapsed against in the morning. He’d been so affected he couldn’t stand straight while his coffee brewed, and he thought Option Two was a _good idea_? He sighed, dropping his messenger bag onto his polished counter, putting his head down against the cool granite.

 _Relationships take effort_ . _Working on yourself is normal._

He reached for his phone, navigating on muscle memory alone to a document he’d hoped he wouldn’t ever have to open again. The last time he’d written out his feelings was well over a year ago, even though the last section of this document was largely cheery and ordinary. Journaling had been something suggested by Takeda-san, but Yahaba had hated the idea of having a notebook that could be misplaced easily and read by anyone. The password-protected note on his phone was further evidence of his inability to be vulnerable with the people in his life. 

Still, baby steps.

Taking a deep breath, Yahaba began to write:

_I hoped I would never have to do this again. I hoped that I was ‘cured’, even though I know that the idea of a cure is BS. Still, being faced with regression is scary. But Oikawa-san says this isn’t regression; it’s progress. It’s finding something new. I hope that he’s right. Ordinarily, I’d give anything to turn the clock back to two days ago. Ordinarily, I would give up anything to not have to do this. But I don’t think I’m Ordinary Yahaba anymore. Now, I found someone I’d really like to hold onto. And if that means working on myself? I think I might do anything for him, so this is barely a price to pay. In fact, it’s probably a good idea to work on myself anyway. You may be thinking, one week? But I’ve known him for longer, cared about him for longer. I just never realized. It’s odd; in the process of trying to put him back in his box, I fell out of my own box. I became someone different. He made me someone different. I hope that’s okay._

Yahaba let out a shuddering breath, exiting out of the Notes app as quickly as possible. Baby steps did not mean he had to be comfortable with what he was doing. Still, one more bandaid to rip off; the sooner, the better. He opened up his contacts, scrolling to the bottom of his favorites. He never did scrounge up the courage to remove the number from his favorites; that should have probably been a warning sign, in hindsight. 

Yahaba rolled his head, stretching his neck and cracking his shoulder and back joints. Quick and painful, then it’ll be over. He dialled the number before he could psych himself out. 

“Hello? This is Yahaba Shigeru. Yes, yes it has been a while.”

Yahaba steeled himself, taking a deep breath.

“I’d like to make an appointment with Takeda-san. As soon as possible. Yes, Saturday at 1 PM works wonderfully for me. Thank you for your help.”

Yahaba hung up, feeling tears prick at his eyes involuntarily. This may not be how he was _supposed_ to feel, but he felt this way anyway. Only one thing to do about it: watch a shitty rom-com while eating far more coffee ice cream than is healthy. Maybe cry a little. 

But tomorrow? Tomorrow, he got up off the dirt. 

Tomorrow was his and his alone, to fight and _win._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my school started. 'yay'. But I absolutely prioritized this chapter to finish bc the last chapter will be happy resolution with crackhead and that'll be fun. 
> 
> Remote learning sucks ass by the way. And you can quote me on that. 
> 
> I'm not super stressed yet. I will be at some point. But writing has always been therapeutic for me, and oddly enough there's nothing I love to do more than this at the moment. And you guys were absolutely wonderful to me before, even when i wasn't in the best place. 
> 
> I will keep writing. And I'm putting it down in this note for posterity, or more like a promise.


	5. friday, or the flare of life and fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yahaba and Kyoutani finally get their shit together.
> 
> Yahaba finally lets him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should definitely apologize, because this is super late. But I fucking finished it you guys, and I kinda love this chapter? Like it definitely lacks cohesion but it's like fun. 
> 
> I think it gives them a nice ending, and also sets up a backstory which like? I did by accident? Honestly I probably won't write more than a oneshot about it but it gives me something to write in this verse that's like short. 
> 
> Also I have never done this before, and idk if it's like bad: if it makes the person uncomfortable, please let me know and I'll totally remove it from the note. HOWEVER:
> 
> I wanna give a special thanks to @To_many_fandomshhh because they literally read through and left kudos on I think every fic in this series and almost every fic I've ever written. Everyone who reads my fics motivates me to write, but you specifically lit a fire under my ass to finish and post this chapter. So thank you, and I appreciate your kudos so much!!!
> 
> I literally could not list all the people who made this fic a pleasure to write. @mitigates made me scream one time by telling me my fics were recommended on a discord which??? And @clovergum left so many amazing comments. And also, my iconic anon from chapters 2, 3, and 4 (who now is no longer anon!!!) @PaladinoFandoms you were absolutely wonderful as well!!! All of you who read this and left kudos, and allowed me to just explore Yahaba and Kyoutani's characters outside of the canon are absolutely amazing. 
> 
> By the way, Oikawa is definitely OOC with his parent-ness in this fic. Just let it happen. He'll be back to his loveable idiocy and everything in the next fic.

_ I don’t want to seem the way I do _

Yahaba slid out of his bedroom with sock-clad feet, nothing covering his body except boxers.

_ But I’m confident when I’m with you _

The sun shined brightly through his curtains, and Yahaba could feel his heart jump in time with the music in the background. Pure serotonin, that’s what it was. 

_ Lately all I feel is bad and bruised _

_ Tired of tripping on my shoes _

Wasn’t that absolutely accurate. Yahaba was sure he spent more time walking into a proverbial door than actually functioning as a human being, at least recently. Yahaba swivelled his hips in time with the music, boogying backwards into the kitchen area. 

_ But when he loves me, I feel like I’m floating _

Yahaba’s heart melted a little bit, and he would  _ swear _ to a Grand Jury it had nothing to do with one angry-eyed history professor. His grin was wide and fully meant as he twirled around, grabbing a travel mug for his coffee. 

_ When he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody _

Yahaba’s phone buzzed on the counter, and he grabbed it with an odd amount of purpose, pressing it to his ear happily. 

“Good morning! This is Yahaba Shigeru, may I inquire who this is?”

“Iwa-chan, I fucking knew it. Yahaba was body-snatched.”

Yahaba sighed slightly, though his mood remained unchanged. “And a wonderful morning to you too, Oikawa-san!”

“Good morning, Yahaba-kun. It’s good to finally speak to you after yesterday.” Iwaizumi-san’s dulcet tones didn’t seem disappointed in the slightest, though just hearing his voice opened a small pit in Yahaba’s stomach.

“Iwaizumi-san, I-I’m sorry. I’m  _ so  _ sorry, I messed so much up. Oikawa-san told me you wouldn’t be angry, but I understand if you’re disappointed in me, I just  _ messed so much- _ ”

“-I’m going to cut you off there, Yahaba-kun. Partly because I don’t want to ruin the good mood that you’re in, and partly because if you keep speaking you might lose the position of my favorite level-headed  _ kouhai _ .”

Yahaba snorted. “No one has ever accused me of being more level-headed than Akaashi. And let’s be real: Kyoutani is your favorite  _ kouhai _ .”

“Well, even so Yahaba-kun, I have a soft spot for my husband’s favorite  _ kouhai _ .”

“You  _ are my _ favorite  _ kouhai, _ Yahaba-kun!” Oikawa chirped from what appeared to be the background. 

“I know, Oikawa-san. You’re my favorite too.” Yahaba said this absently, busy decanting his coffee from his french press into his travel mug. He only realized he’d apparently said something of substance when he was faced with resounding silence.

“....Aaand he’s crying. Give us a couple minutes, Yahaba-kun.” 

Yahaba couldn’t help but laugh softly, putting his coffee into the side pocket of his messenger bag. It suddenly dawned on him that he had to catch his shuttle to campus in 20 minutes, and he was still standing around in his boxers. 

“Was there something important Oikawa-san? Because I have to leave soon if I want to get to the morning class on time.”

“Something of incredible importance, Yahaba.” Oikawa-san’s voice held no vestige of the tears Iwaizumi-san had declared, and instead seemed to come off steely and cold. Yahaba gulped. 

“You broke someone’s heart yesterday, along with yours. And I am so thankful you’re in a good mood today, but you’re also going to  _ fix _ what you broke. Understood?” Oikawa-san’s voice was unyielding, and Yahaba found himself nodding silently before he realized neither Oikawa-san nor Iwaizumi-san could see him. He quickly bit out a “yessir!” before hanging up, sliding back into his bedroom. 

_ When I start to tumble from the sky _

_ You remind me how to fly. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All good things, of course, must come to an end. Yahaba’s knee bounced up and down at an alarmingly rapid pace on the shuttle, so fast that one of the more matronly professors was shooting him concerned looks. 

His confidence and cheeriness in the morning had been quickly replaced by the jitters. Not strictly panic, but an unhealthy amount of nerves. Oikawa-san had been right; he had  _ broken _ Kyoutani’s heart yesterday. He had no right to think he would earn his forgiveness.

But if he never received Kyoutani’s forgiveness...Yahaba didn’t want to be dramatic, but it was more than probable that a part of him would just be gone. It would shrivel away into nothingness. It was a part of him he desperately wanted to hold on to. 

His knee bounced faster, this time coupled with his other foot tapping on the shuttle floor. 

“Are you okay?” Yahaba flinched slightly when a calm voice spoke to him from his left. 

“Yeah,” Yahaba bit out. “I’m great. Peachy, really.”

“You seem pretty nervous.” Yahaba fought the urge to snap at the calm woman, but it seemed she was only capable of pointing out what was really obvious.

“Let me guess, you’re one of Daichi and Iwaizumi-san’s bunch aren’t you?” The lady had a soft smile on her face, more amused than judgemental. Yahaba’s prior frustration was knocked out by confusion. A lot of people on campus knew Sawamura-san and Iwaizumi-san, but how had she known he was a part of their group?

“Suga-kun talks a  _ lot _ during brunch, usually about the younger professors. Even then, you all are  _ Daichi and Iwaizumi’s,  _ because I doubt the two of them can walk five feet in a new place without adopting twelve children.”

“Right,” Yahaba said, still completely lost. “Who are you?”

“I’m Shimizu-san. I went to grad school with Daichi and Suga. And technically Asahi too.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shimizu-san,” Yahaba said, barely paying attention to the conversation. Shimizu-san leaned over and placed a hand over Yahaba’s knee, stilling it briefly.

“Even if I didn’t have (among other things) a PhD in Psychology, I would be able to diagnose your stress.” Yahaba let out a little exhale of air, the conversation a bit too familiar for his comfort. Shimizu-san reached into her purse and pulled out a teal stress ball. 

“We have about three minutes left in our shuttle ride, so there’s not much we can do. But investing in healthy coping mechanisms means sometimes squeezing a tiny stress ball rather than being completely seized by our jitters.” She placed the stress ball in his clammy palm, and curled his fingers around it. 

“I don’t know what’s causing your stress, and quite honestly: I’m not a therapist. Not that I’m saying you need therapy; you might just have a rough day ahead of you. But  _ you _ know. You know what you need, even if sometimes you don’t want to come to terms with it.”

Yahaba smiled, feeling almost triumphant about this conversation. “Thanks, Shimizu-san. And you’re right: I know what I need, and I’m working on taking actionable steps towards it.”

“Very good, Yahaba-kun. I understand why Oikawa-kun likes you so much.”

Yahaba’s eyes widened as he finally connected the dots. “You have got to be shitt-”

“I usually take the C shuttle to campus. And Oikawa-kun and Suga are an inseparable, terrible twosome. So yes, he’s at brunch too.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Yahaba growled. Shimizu-san just laughed as the shuttle slowed to a stop. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Yahaba walked into the faculty lounge (still terribly incensed) there were only three people in the room: Kuroo-san, Iwaizumi-san, and (luckily) Oikawa-san. Yahaba barely took the care to place his leather bag on the couch before he spun around, ready to attack.

“You sicced an attack psychologist on me!?” Yahaba yelled pointedly at Oikawa.

“Okay, Shimizu-san is not an  _ attack  _ psychologist- in fact, she’s barely a psychologist at all-”

“You literally didn’t trust me enough to get through a  _ shuttle ride _ ?” 

“Yahaba-kun,” Iwaizumi tried softly.

“Nope, nuh-uh, don’t you  _ dare _ ‘Yahaba-kun’ me. I set up an appointment, with my  _ actual  _ therapist. Not to mention- what the hell are you doing talking about my mental health issues at brunch?”

Oikawa-san’s smile had melted off his face, and his eyes had turned cold. 

“You know what I say about you at brunch? I gush about you: about your intelligence, about your abilities, about your strength. I’ve never  _ once _ said anything about something you told me confidentially, and frankly I’m a little affronted you thought I would.” 

Oikawa marched forward and grabbed his arm in a tight grip. “And yeah, I asked Shimizu to be on your shuttle this morning. Because yesterday your world fell apart. And you’re not going to therapy until your appointment on Saturday. You need to make amends today, Yahaba, or everything will not be okay. And in order for you to make amends, you can’t be a mess. So yes, I put Shimizu on the shuttle in case you needed help.” Oikawa paused to gesture at the stress ball Yahaba was holding. “Clearly, you did. And that’s not a bad thing.  _ Let us help you _ . If not for yourself, so you can fix what you broke. Get over yourself.”

Yahaba blinked for a second, a bit ashamed. Then he let out a small giggle. Oikawa looked up, shocked. 

“You’re completely right, of course.” Yahaba couldn’t help it; he kept laughing softly. Oikawa breathed out a sigh of relief.

“This is why you’re my favorite,” he sighed. 

“Anyway,” Iwaizumi directed. “Making amends part one.” He gestured silently at Kuroo, who seemed incredibly uncomfortable.

“Okay, so apparently no one taught Iwaizumi or Oikawa that  _ mentoring _ and  _ adopting _ are not the same thing at all.”

“Kuroo-san, I apologize. I had misplaced fear that I directed as anger towards you, and you didn’t deserve it in the slightest. I hope you can forgive me, and over due time we may regain our friendship.” Yahaba bowed deeply, and Kuroo hopped up to his feet. 

“Yahaba, I- This is just- Okay, look: I really didn’t care and like it was weird, yeah, but I was more worried for you than-  _ regain our friendship? _ We never- oh my god, I hate this so much. We’re chill now, I hope you feel better, go get your man, do your thing.” Kuroo took two steps forward before patting Yahaba’s head awkwardly, after which he turned and sprinted out of the room. 

Oikawa burst out laughing, and Yahaba finally realized that both of them were  _ recording _ the entire ordeal.

“Wait: did you do this because you wanted me to truly make amends, or did you just want blackmail material on Kuroo-san?”

“Would it be wrong if we said both?” Iwaizumi-san said, barely able to hold in his laughter. 

“You guys are supposed to be helping-” Yahaba cut off as Kyoutani walked into the room. Kyoutani was stunned into stopping, as the two of them stared at each other silently. 

“I…” Yahaba’s mouth was so dry. Was it always that dry? 

Kyoutani’s eyes traced his face, the look on his face just tender enough that Yahaba longed to just wrap his arms around him. 

_ Then why was he frozen? Why couldn’t he- wasn’t this all he wanted? _

Yahaba turned and fled out the other door to the room, as Kyoutani’s face crumpled behind him. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Iwaizumi chanted as he moved forward to talk to Kyoutani. Oikawa had already disappeared out the door behind Yahaba.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yahaba had holed up underneath his desk in his office. He was surprised no one had come to find him yet: this was, after all, his safe place. Akaashi knew, Kenma knew, even Oikawa-san knew. And yet he was completely alone. 

_ Do you feel safer like this? _ a voice in his head questioned. Yahaba went deeper into his subconsciousness, trying to measure his panic. During most bad days, the answer was a resounding  _ yes _ : silence, solitude, and darkness helped him. Except today…

...today all he could feel were pangs of loneliness. 

He glanced at his watch, trying to rationalize his absence. It was already five minutes to class, and the lecture hall was at least ten minutes away. He was already late, so there was no point in showing up.

_ But he’ll be there,  _ the voice tried again. Yahaba’s hand clenched around the stress ball, trying to understand what he really wanted. 

There was safety and then there was him. Yahaba had already decided he wanted him, but he just didn’t know how to get the rest of him to understand. 

_ You are all of you. If you understand, the rest of you understands. _

Yahaba took a deep breath as he watched the minute hand on his watch tick closer to the start time of his class. 

_ What’s the saying? Better late than never? _

Yahaba tried to project awareness all the way through his body, only to realize he already  _ was _ aware. And this boy, this perfect, stupid,  _ wonderful _ boy was maybe waiting for him. He owed it to himself to try. 

And so, Yahaba climbed out from under his desk. He put the stress ball on the desk, and stared at it for a couple seconds before pocketing it. Putting himself out there didn’t mean no coping mechanisms. 

When he pulled the door to his office open, he was surprised to see his friends outside. Akaashi and Kenma were sitting on a desk closest to the door, while Oikawa-san was spinning in a chair. Iwaizumi-san and Sawamura-san were working in another corner, while Sugawara-san reclined on a desk staring at the ceiling. When he appeared in the doorway, they all turned to look at him. 

“Are you all, I don’t know, sitting vigil for me or something?” Yahaba asked.

“Obviously we knew where you were,” Akaashi intoned apathetically.

“Then why didn’t you come get me?” Yahaba asked.

“Had to be your decision,” Kenma responded quietly. Yahaba smiled softly, but his smile only got larger with every passing second until he was practically grinning.

“If I sprint, you think I can make it to the lecture hall in eight minutes? That way I’ll only be five minutes late.”

Oikawa-san looked up at him finally, and Sugawara-san sat up. “Fuck yes,” Oikawa-san said breathlessly, eyes wide with hope.

“Here I go,” Yahaba said quietly, before he ran out from the office area. 

_ Here I go indeed. _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyoutani was unsure what the protocol was in this scenario. They were supposed to teach today’s class  _ together _ .

But of course, Yahaba hadn’t shown. If only he could be angry at that, and not sad and worried and every other pathetic emotion he was feeling. 

Kyoutani fumbled with the papers he was holding, his hands shaking slightly.  _ Please come through for me, Yahaba. I’ve never asked you for anything else before. I need you now. _

_ I need you for a lot more than now. _

The students were starting to fidget, as muffled murmurs and mumbles broke out in the classroom. Kyoutani let out a sigh, opting for direct communication. After all, it was unlikely that Yahaba was going to show up, so might as well let the students know.

“See, he was supposed to be here. So I’m not exactly sure-”

“-I fucked up.” A hush fell over the room, as Kyoutani flinched, spinning to look toward the entrance where Yahaba was standing, squeezing that damn stress ball in one fist, holding his other hand over his heart. Kyoutani looked at him,  _ really _ looked at him, walking around the desk to come stand in front. 

“So did I,” he said, pulling the reading glasses (that somehow made him look ten times hotter,  _ goddamnit _ ) off his face in one fluid move, folding them up and placing them on the desk. Yahaba took a couple steps forward, his grip on the stress ball loosening slightly. 

“I fucked up worse,” he said, eyes boring into Kyoutani’s, trying to project his thoughts directly into his mind. Kyoutani gave a soft chuckle. “Always so damn competitive, Yahaba.” Yahaba smiled sadly. “Believe me, if I could, I’d take the tie. Just this once. And maybe, for a long time?” He ended on a question, looking up at Kyoutani hopefully. Kyoutani cocked his head to the side, assessing Yahaba. 

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, Yahaba.” Kyoutani’s words were concerning, but his smile was the same as ever. The one that told Yahaba he was safe around Kyoutani, that he was secure where he was. This was the whole point; this moment right here, this was what the journey had led to.

“There are these boxes in my head. Everyone fits into a box. I fit into a box, Oikawa-san has his own box, Iwaizumi-san, Akaashi, Kenma, _everyone._ _Everyone_ has a box. Or should I say, _had_ a box.” Yahaba took a shuddering breath and a couple more steps forward, wanting to be closer to Kyoutani. 

“I don’t know why, and I couldn’t tell you what it was, but I can promise you that what happened was a long time coming. You fell out of your box. You changed, or maybe my perspective of you changed, and suddenly you weren’t the Kyoutani I made you in my mind. I wanted to know you, and then I changed. I wanted things that I hadn’t wanted in a long time.” Kyoutani’s eyes widened. “Not like  _ that _ , dumbass!” Yahaba yelled, walking forward to smack him in the arm. Kyoutani laughed for a second before his expression turned open and serious again. “Look, there’s a lot to it that you might not understand yet, but I promise to explain.” Yahaba took a deep breath, hands shaking just a little bit. “ In wanting to know you, you changed me, and I shrink from change readily. But I’m here, admitting the greatest change of all because-”

Yahaba cut himself off, his hands clenching into fists but his eyes never wavering from Kyoutani.

“Because I like you a lot. More than I’ve ever liked anyone in my life, I think. And I think I could love you, if you’ll give me the chance.”

Yahaba ended the sentence in barely a whisper, eyes still locked with Kyoutani’s. Kyoutani was unreadable, barely a couple feet away and yet the distance stretched like a physical barrier. Yahaba was dimly aware of the outbreak of whispering in the room, but it was like his world (or at least his focus) had narrowed down to the single point where Kyoutani was standing. There was nothing left to do but wait with bated breath. 

Kyoutani was still standing there, practically shut down. His eyes were wide, but his face was even more blank than usual. Yahaba absently filed away that perhaps this is what Kyoutani looked like when he was buffering. Every other part of him was seized up in apprehension, panic. After a couple moments of still silence, Yahaba couldn’t take the lack of response. 

“Look, I-”

Kyoutani came  _ alive,  _ surging forwards to grip Yahaba’s face in his hands. He paused for just a second, looking deep into Yahaba’s eyes. Yahaba had a split-second to look back into Kyoutani’s eyes and see something  _ beautiful _ , before Kyoutani was leaning up to finally,  _ finally _ kiss him. 

Call it a cliche, but everything seemed to fall away. All Yahaba seemed to be able to pay attention to was the slight calluses on Kyoutani’s hands where they rested on his face, the softness of his lips. Yahaba’s hands ran up his back to grip the back of his neck, pulling him even closer. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do we clap?” one student asked in a hushed voice. 

“Yes! We clap!” an oddly familiar voice squawked from the doorway.

“Shut up, Shittykawa. We shouldn’t even  _ be here _ .”

“What the hell kind of class is this? Some parent is definitely gonna sue us for the public display of affection.”

“Shut up Kuro.”

“Yes, please shut up Kuroo-san.”

“I thought they were just friends,” someone said in a stage whisper. 

“We can go over it at our next brunch, Morisuke!”

“Am I invited to brunch, Suga-san?”

“All due respect, Hanamaki, you’d ruin it.”

“That’s deserved, I suppose.”

Yahaba groaned in annoyance into Kyoutani’s lips. Kyoutani made to pull away, but Yahaba followed his lips to steal one more kiss before finally pulling back. The two of them looked at each other in silent wonder for just a couple seconds, before chaos broke loose.

“Everyone who was part of the Professor Kyouhaba pool owes me twenty!” a student yelled, pointing at various students. The other students alternated between grumbling and outright arguing the results. 

“ _ Kyoutani-san _ kissed _ Yahaba-san _ !”

“Yeah, but  _ Yahaba-san _ confessed!”

“It brings up an important discussion: which is more emotionally vulnerable? Well, I took intro to Psych twice, and I can tell you-”

“-Man, shut the fuck up!”

“Yahaba! I’m so proud of you!” Yahaba turned around to see Oikawa-san squealing, eyes shiny with tears of joy. Oikawa-san was holding a large, shiny balloon in the hand that wasn’t bunched in Iwaizumi-san’s shirt. The balloon read in large, electric-blue font, ‘It’s a boy!’. 

“You know, because you’re both boys!” Oikawa-san said cheerfully, and normally Yahaba would’ve assumed that Oikawa-san was capable of that sort of fucked-up reasoning. However, Iwaizumi-san quickly intervened. “It’s ‘cos it was the only balloon we could find on such short notice. It was in the teaching hospital gift shop.”

Yahaba was seized with the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, as well as the urge to sob at the sheer kindness and caring his friends were exhibiting (I mean, maybe not Kuroo-san). Actually, no. Kuroo-san too, in his own emotionally stunted way. 

Yahaba buried his face into Kyoutani’s shoulder, face scrunched up in some intense emotion, largely positive. Kyoutani’s hand immediately flew to the back of his neck, stroking softly and scratching lightly at the hairs at the nape of his neck. Yahaba could feel himself relax so quickly it didn’t feel real. God, he could have had this  _ ages  _ ago. 

“Could I just mention that Makki and I totally called this exact outcome,” Matsukawa-san said from the back of the classroom.

“Oh shut up, Mattsun. We all called this outcome,” Iwaizumi growled. 

“No, we mean the ‘confession in front of a classroom after a huge blowout fight’,” Hanamaki-san clarified. “It’s because we know our  _ kouhai _ so well!” he cooed. 

“All due respect, Hanamaki-san, but you’re full of shit.”

“ _ There’s _ the Yahaba we all know and love!” Oikawa-san announced dramatically. He quite literally flung his hands out, letting go off the balloon at the last second. It was saved from floating up to the ceiling by Daichi-san, who dove through the crowd for it. 

“Congratulations, you guys,” he wheezed from where he collapsed on the ground, bright blue balloon grasped in one hand. 

“Sorry, Dai-chan!” Oikawa-san squealed as Iwaizumi smacked him in the back of the head. 

“You all do realize we still have a class to teach, right?” Kyoutani said softly. The group of professors turned to slowly look at the students, who stared back just as blankly.

“Honestly, we’re totally fine with the trajectory of this class,” one of the students in the front row remarked smartly. 

“And that’ll be enough out of you, Akari-san,” Kyoutani said mock-sternly. 

“Everyone out,” Yahaba demanded, returning to the voice of authority he held in this room. “I will not be sacrificing the education of these students so you can have fun.”

“You literally sacrificed the education of these students so you could nab yourself a boyfriend.”

“You can talk when you nab  _ yourself _ a boyfriend, Kuroo-san. Until then, please exit my classroom.”

Kuroo mock-winced, wide smile on his face mirroring Yahaba’s as he walked out of the classroom, the last of the professors to exit. 

“Okay everyone. So for our  _ final _ class together this week, we were thinking about what would make the most sense to teach together.” Yahaba’s smile took on an edge. 

“What brings our two worlds together best. A synergy, if you will.”

“Keep in mind,” Kyoutani continued. “The topics of this class aren’t  _ exactly _ university-approved, but they’re both relevant to your education and incredibly cool.”

Yahaba and Kyoutani looked at each other, wearing matching smiles as they turned to face the class fully.

“Who’s ready to learn about chemical warfare?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lesson went well, not that anyone had doubted it. The students seemed in incredibly good spirits, even though many of them had lost a good deal of money. Yahaba felt like he’d never felt a better mood in the classroom.

Then again, that might have more to do with Yahaba than the students. Or more specifically, Yahaba and Kyoutani. Initially they were both embarrassed (they  _ had _ just confessed their feelings for each other in front of all of these students), and they tried to be as ordinary as possible. Professional, respectful, Yahaba had even referred to Kyoutani as Kyoutani-san at one point. 

It kind of devolved from there. Yahaba was looking for a handout in a sheaf of papers and he slipped up, saying, “Kyou, can you help me out here?”

Kyoutani did not help things. He absently replied, “Sure, love,” in the middle of explaining the intricacies of trench warfare (a lot of which was definitely going over the chem students’ heads). A couple gasps and coos sounded through the class as Yahaba and Kyoutani froze, prominent blushes blooming on their faces. Kyoutani cleared his throat aggressively before continuing to speak, while Yahaba buried his face in a piece of paper, unable to control his grin or the warmth coating his face. 

Another (worse) incident happened when Yahaba got a little too excited about the chemical intricacies of mustard gas. His eyes were lit up (a little morbid, because of the context), and he was gesticulating passionately. In the middle of gesturing out a bond formation, Kyoutani leaned over and pecked him on the lips. 

Yahaba went blank, and did the only thing he found himself able to. He smacked Kyoutani lightly on the chest, before looking straight down, pinching his nose bridge. “What, am I not allowed to do that?” Kyoutani asked innocently. “Nope,” Yahaba choked, biting his lip. “Oh, sorry. You just looked cute.” Yahaba groaned, the situation getting worse by the second. He hated it (or so he told himself). The students were openly giggling by now, too entertained by the events.

“Well? You can continue now, Yahaba.” Yahaba let out an unintelligible response directed towards the ground. “What?” Kyoutani asked, confused. 

“ _ I lost my train of thought _ ,” Yahaba growled, looking up, face gloriously red. 

“Sorry,” Kyoutani said shortly, unable to hide his smile. “You’re not sorry at all, asshole,” Yahaba said, clicking his tongue and turning away. “Yeah, I’m really not,” Kyoutani said huskily. 

This was threatening to kill him. Yahaba would die a happy man. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oikawa was rarely a subtle man. Of all his faults, subtlety was not one counted against his character. He usually entered rooms with a bang, announcing himself and his intentions a bit like a flamboyant member of the Queen’s guard. 

He was altogether too thankful that he’d been too preoccupied for his usual habits a couple seconds ago. 

Oikawa crouched slightly, flattening himself against the wall behind the cracked door, spying into the faculty lounge silently. Yahaba and Kyoutani were sitting on the couch (thankfully in direct view from where Oikawa was hiding) and talking softly. Oikawa watched Kyoutani play with Yahaba’s hands absently, tracing invisible patterns on them soothingly, and periodically lacing their hands together. 

“I can really try to explain it if you want me to, Kyou.”

“I don’t need to know. Honest. As long as you’re here with me now, I don’t care.” Kyoutani punctuated this with a soft kiss to Yahaba’s knuckles.

Oikawa felt the urge to squeal. Who knew Kyoutani, the gruff and silent boy, was a secret romantic?

“I think a part of me needs you to know. So that we don’t start  _ us _ off with any imbalance.” Oikawa couldn’t really see the bottom half of Yahaba’s face, but he had a clear view of his worried eyes. He imagined Yahaba was worrying his lower lip with his teeth, just as he always did when he was unsure. 

Kyoutani nodded, unlacing their fingers and scooting backward on the couch. Oikawa was confused for a second; wasn’t this the moment to wrap him up in your arms, to show him you’re there for him in every sense of the word? Then Yahaba let out a relieved exhale, his shoulders relaxing from their tense position. _Kyoutani had known._ _He’d known exactly what Yahaba had needed._ The only question that prevailed on Oikawa’s mind was _how?_

“You’ve always known about the anxiety. I think you were one of the first people to know. I think you knew it before I fully came to terms with it.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He knew that Yahaba had gotten officially diagnosed the year before he’d first become a TA. But, he was also certain that Kyoutani and Yahaba hadn’t known one another before they met at the TA mixer. 

“I never meant to hurt you, that day.” Kyoutani cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “I never meant to do anything that harmed you at all. I just-I never realized you might not have known.”

“I knew in all the ways that mattered.” Yahaba’s eyes were far away, unfocused. “I just hadn’t really come to terms with it. I had a conversation with someone today, on the shuttle, who reminded me just how transformative a simple conversation could be.”

“See,” Yahaba continued. “If it hadn’t been for you, I never would have called Takeda-san. And calling Takeda-san put ten thousand things in motion.” He reached for Kyoutani’s hands again. “I don’t think you’ll ever realize quite how much this is true, but meeting you changed my life. You changed my life and I couldn’t help but hate that for a while.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened. _They’d known each other._ _Jesus Christ._ Of course he’d known that they had a long and complicated history; Oikawa just figured he knew all of that history. But apparently he didn’t. In fact, none of them did.

“I didn’t fall in love with you instantly or anything.” Yahaba’s eyes narrowed as Kyoutani spoke, a little concerned about where that idea was going. “But I wanted to see you smile. I don’t think you ever quite realized, but  _ I  _ smiled more than you did that first year.”

“Your eyebrows were always knit together in concern,” Kyoutani continued, as Yahaba’s eyes grew still wider. “And your shoulders were so tense. One time, you dropped a book and you just stared at it on the ground, unmoving. I barely knew you and yet, you just scared me so much Yahaba.”

“And then you talked to me and I completely bit your head off,” Yahaba said, a fond smile on his face. Kyoutani’s eyes lit up too, and he scooted forward so Yahaba was within arm’s reach again. 

“I really thought our friendship was an impossibility after that. And then you became Oikawa-san’s TA, and suddenly our mentors were married.”

Yahaba leaned forward, nestling his head into Kyoutani’s shoulder. “I can’t guarantee that I’m better.”

“I would never, ever ask you to. Plus, Yahaba. I’m not perfect either. There’s  _ so  _ much you’re going to have to put up with from me.”

“I might withdraw, I might run. I need you to trust in the fact that I love you more than I fear change.”

“I trust you.  _ Of course _ , I trust you.”

Oikawa dimly realized he’d crumpled the material of his shirt in his own hands. He couldn’t help but feel stupid; they’d  _ all _ been stupid. They had just assumed this relationship had been a bit rushed for both of them. But this was Kyoutani and Yahaba: Yahaba, who wouldn’t rush into something even if it was his deepest heart’s desire; Kyoutani, who took  _ years _ to warm up to someone. Of course, even as TAs they’d known each other for quite some time, but it made so much more sense now that he knew they had actual  _ history _ . 

Oikawa allowed himself one last look through the window, the two of them now comfortably reclining on each other. Yahaba looked a couple moments away from slumber, the emotional rollercoaster of a day finally taking its toll. Oikawa’s eyes drifted upward, and finally caught sight of Kyoutani’s expression.

What was that saying about children being mini-versions of their parents? Obviously it wouldn’t quite apply, considering Iwaizumi was his mentor, but Kyoutani’s expression was fondly recognizable for Oikawa. He felt longing clog his throat for a moment before he turned away, wanting to give them privacy.

After all, he had a (prickly) yet loveable husband to find. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, this is my apartment.”

“I’ve seen your apartment, Yahaba. Remember game night, when you hosted last year?” Kyoutani leaned up to tap him on the head lightly in admonishment (apparently for his bad memory). 

“Oh right! Honestly, we should do game nights again. Why did we stop?” Yahaba asked, leaning against the wall next to the door of his apartment, comfortable in the extreme with his left hand laced together with Kyoutani’s right. 

“Kuroo-san set Daichi-san and Suga-san’s apartment on fire.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, we can’t do game nights again.”

“I’ve heard there’s a couples-only game night that Daichi-san, Suga-san, Oikawa-san, and Iwaizumi-san host,” Kyoutani said, breath warm against Yahaba’s ear as he brushed a kiss against Yahaba’s cheek. “We could go to that now since, you know, we’re a couple.” Kyoutani brushed another kiss onto Yahaba’s cheek (that was now blushing a bright red). 

“That would work until Kuroo-san and Kenma get together, and then it’s a fire hazard again,” Yahaba said absently, a bit preoccupied. Kyoutani whispered a quiet “Them too?” before leaning in and sealing their lips together. Yahaba responded in kind, wrapping his arms around Kyoutani’s waist and tugging him in closer.

“Kentarou,” Yahaba mumbled in between kisses. “Remember this morning when I said I didn’t want anything like  _ that _ ?” Yahaba didn’t wait for a real answer, turning around and pinning Kyoutani against a wall. “I lied.”

Kyoutani groaned, the sound setting Yahaba’s skin on fire. “I’m sure we can figure something out for  _ that _ ,” Kyoutani growled, surging up to kiss him again. Yahaba fumbled for his key as Kyoutani’s hands drifted into his hair, curling around the cool brown strands. Yahaba choked on a gasp before tearing himself away regretfully. Then he turned the key in the lock, opening the door wide and practically dragging Kyoutani through the entranceway, barely stopping to shove the door closed.

In other words, Yahaba  _ finally _ let him in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I don't know what else I'm planning to do after this. This series specifically is my writing safe space: I love it so much.
> 
> However, I do want to expand my horizons a little bit. I might focus on finishing my tsukkiyama bartender fic and then just explore the worlds of the ships I haven't written for yet.
> 
> That means a break from seijoh, unfortunately. If y'all haven't guessed by now, they're my absolute favorites. 
> 
> So that means: kagehina, sakuatsu, bokuaka, maybe kuroken. 
> 
> Probably first on my list of priorities is kagehina. or sakuatsu. but honestly I'm open to any ideas.
> 
> Finally, just wanted to send you guys some amazingly positive vibes. I don't know what's happening in my life, and it's gonna be tumultuous for a little while. I hope you're all doing better, but if you're in my boat, I want to tell both of us that it'll be alright. Everything is going to be alright. And in the long run, when everything is golden and right for our lives, you'll look back on it and feel strong; you'll be proud that you believed in yourself enough to afford a little optimism.
> 
> Love you all!
> 
> I HAVE A TUMBLR NOW AND IDK WHY - it's @situationalirony13 - please do what people do with that information k thx


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